


Green Fruit

by Recidiva



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recidiva/pseuds/Recidiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from Mr. War to have a romance between Dr. Karin Chakwas and a male Paragon Shepard featuring a pregnancy.  Karin Chakwas being an amazing woman, she had to have an utterly charming man.  An infuriating, charming man.  An infuriating, disarming, charming man.</p><p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6m0YJleOvqrJEyGDohY4b1294HBph3Es">Green Fruit narrated on YouTube</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mr War](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mr+War).



His legal name was ‘Cherimoya Shepard’ because his mother had thought it sounded regal, misrepresenting it as some grand Maori tribal name or something. It wasn’t clear. She wanted him to be fierce and this was her contribution because it wasn’t her genes. There was really no explaining his mother. There wasn’t much in the way of comprehending his mother. He was adopted, but they shared Caucasian Canadian stock, he was army brat adjacent, she was a townie with an unknown source of income and a different last name from his. He grew up near Vancouver base and signed up when he was 18.

He had been appalled when he found it out that Cherimoya did not mean ‘Fateful Warrior’ but that he was named after an unripe-looking weird-ass green fruit. He’d never tried one. Seemed disrespectful.

So most people knew him as Moya and…nobody…called him Cherimoya. Okay, his mom still called him Cherimoya.

Someone had made an attempt at “Jerry” during basic training, that one last fateful time that his name had been called as an unknown in a group, before he corrected them. That resulted in a broken arm. No more Jerry. The broken arm was deserved, Kaine was just an asshole. People thanked him. Not Kaine, of course, but people.

Moya had ultimately developed a sense of humor based on his name and other decisions his mother had made. She was a flake of tremendous proportions, but he loved her and had stopped trying to explain things like unintended cultural appropriation and misunderstanding long ago. Every visit home, which wasn’t often, he was fed some ‘traditional’ meal that was composed of canned soup, ketchup and some sort of vile ‘festive’ topping. He took her out to eat whenever possible. Sometimes it wasn’t possible. The woman couldn’t cook. Her casseroles were to be feared. They were all vaguely sourced, unpronounceable and about as authentic as the legendary Maori warrior named Cherimoya.

He still did his best to be a fateful warrior, despite his name and despite assholes like Kaine.

Today felt fateful. He’d lost Jenkins. He’d gained Ashley. An entire colony gone, a Spectre dead. He’d knocked Ashley out of the way of a beacon and woken with a massive headache. His mother would have told him to lay down in a humid (Why? She did not know. Probably because it was a pain in the ass.) room with cucumbers on his…no, not his eyes, that would make sense. Ears. Cucumber slices balanced precariously on his ears. She insisted the ‘cucumbers on the eyes’ thing was misinformation, there to dim the true path. True path of what, mom, cucumber enlightenment? Do you know how hard it is to keep cucumbers on the ears? She’d check to make sure he was doing it ‘right.’ They’d get soggy. There was dripping. So headache and soggy and a vague fear of ear infections had been his fate. The worst was the tickling. It did distract from the headache, but overall did not contribute to quality of life.

He’d been in med bays, lots of med bays, in his career. He was grateful that military tradition had nothing about cucumbers in it. Or cayenne pepper. Do not ask. He knew Karin Chakwas, had spoken to her. Liked speaking to her. She was calm and sophisticatedly wise in a way he’d like to emulate if he could ever be that cool. On him it would be obviously faked. On her it just…flowed like a river. Steadying. His vague impression was approval. “This is a woman that would never make me balance cucumbers on my ears. Over…and over…”

She’d been only recently transferred to the Normandy and he hadn’t been in her med bay until the crushingly bright red and screeching overlay of what the Prothean beacon had done to the inside of his head. Then there were her hands and her voice. She was reassuring him that he was going to be fine, her cool hand on his brow and then it seemed affectionately trailing down his face, his cheek, his jaw.

And then…

And then he was really, really distracted, sitting up and leaning over and doing his best to be in pain so having a…really…really inappropriate hard-on was not apparent to everyone looking at him anxiously.

Way to go, Jerry.

I would really like to shoot something right now. Can I shoot something?

Yes, a Spectre was dead, but the living have their own tragedies.

He sat there thinking about cucumbers as a deterrent as she asked about him…how he felt in her river voice…and…oh God. She reached for his forehead again, her brows furrowed and he made something up about…more…headache. Yes. Up here. I’m up here. All up here. 

Thoughts of cucumbers weren’t helping. Then thoughts of cucumbers really weren’t helping. He asked for a blanket, rolled to his side and hoped she would not touch him again because he would never…get out of there with his commission intact.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

He avoided her. He didn’t get injured. He very carefully did not get injured. Once he started thinking about her he had an impossible time NOT thinking about her and he hadn’t noticed at all that Liara and Ashley seemed interested in him.

What? No. 

Neither of them had river voices or hands…

Shoot something. Now.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

He avoided her, but she sought him out after Virmire. He was up, early, he was not admitting how early or that it was really late, staring at a cold cup of coffee.

She moved to his side and said “Commander Shepard, I am so very sorry about the loss of Ashley Williams.”

“Thank you, Dr. Chakwas.”

“Please, call me Karin.”

He swallowed once and said “All right. Will you call me Moya?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you should be reminded, often, of your importance to the rest of us.”

“The rest of us? What about you, Doc?”

She smiled and her hand on his shoulder squeezed and…

“Young man, you are important to me.”

It was the grief, or her hand on his shoulder, or just being an idiot “Could you change that to ‘young, virile man’? It would help me out.”

She laughed and it was beautiful “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I can be. I can be very serious. I have a gun and everything.”

She bent and…kissed the top of his head…laughed and moved along to her med bay…doing something cool and efficient and non-cucumber related and…

And he could not consider standing up for a long time. He felt better, that was for sure. She had effectively consoled him. His coffee got a lot colder.

Oh God, I am stuck here. Don’t look at her, look the other way. Do something with your Omni Tool. Do I look cool? Do I look stupid?

I’m important to her.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

On the CIC Joker was being obnoxious, which was…redundant if the speaker was Joker. “So, there, Commander, looks like you’ve got something for Dr. Chakwas.”

“Is it that obvious? It’s not supposed to be that obvious. Now I have to shoot you.”

“You can’t stop looking at her through the glass. It’s like she’s in a booth in Amsterdam.”

“Ewwww.”

“Commander Shepard. Gotta thing for the Chak Doc.”

“Yeah, don’t ever call her that again or mention Amsterdam or she will be minus one patient.”

“Right. I’m just saying you have good taste.”

“Damned right I do.”

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

After Saren he was not in great shape and he heard Anderson say “Take him to Huerta.”

Moya was limping but not about to miss this chance. “No, I’m going back to the Normandy.”

Anderson looked concerned “Huerta’s closer.”

Garrus said “Huerta doesn’t have Karin Chakwas.”

Moya mock growled “Shut it, Turian traitor. And ow.”

Tali said thoughtfully “Do you want to lean on us on the way back in?”

Garrus considered “Will that make him look weak or brave?”

Moya said “Someone decide fast or I will faint and I want to hopefully meet her eyes and look at her being all concerned.”

Anderson seemed slightly stunned. Moya said “Oooh! I know, bring the Council to the Med Bay, nothing’s cooler than that. This is gonna be great.”

Anderson opened his mouth and then closed it.

Garrus said “Don’t worry, Anderson, we’ll keep him alive. He just doesn’t really want to be too alive just yet.”

Moya limped away, imbalanced between Garrus keeping him supported from one side and Tali from another, a lopsided pace set on the way back. Anderson blinked and then decided…maybe…he should…start getting ready to clean up all the fallen…everything. Okay.

She did look all concerned, and she rushed to his side.

!

That was awesome. Garrus and Tali abruptly seemed to lose balance and Moya got to lean on her on the way to a bed.

Maybe it was the pain or the fact that he’d just saved a lot of people. “Hey…Karin…that guy’s dead. The bad guy. I’m sure. I did it for you.”

“For me, Commander?”

“Well, yeah, I mean…other people benefit, but mostly you.”

“Then thank you, Commander.”

“Please call me Moya.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, I killed a bad guy. I’m a big deal. The Council’s coming. You might have to tidy up in here, it’s a mess.”

She looked around her spotless med bay and said “I will consider it.”

“They might need chairs. If you need help lifting them…or supervising while you…lift things…”

“Commander, I am going to politely call this situational delirium. Please lie back.”

“Oh hell yeah, this is going somewhere.”

“And be quiet.”

“I killed a BAD guy, Karin. He was scary!”

She laughed, and then he did, and then the river and her hands, a deep sigh.

“Thank you for killing the scary bad guy for me, Commander.”

“Moya.”

“No.”

“Dammit. Okay. You can do that thing you do where it doesn’t hurt anymore. It hurts.”

“I will do my best.”

“I will do my best, Moya.”

“No.”

“You won’t do your best? Karin…this day just gets worse and worse.”

She laughed and it stopped hurting.


	2. Chapter 2

Moya woke in The Room he was always looking into from the galley, trying to come up with an excuse to go in. Now he was here. Whatever she’d done and whatever had happened, it didn’t hurt. He opened his eyes and looked around. She was at her desk, face turned away, so he looked at her for a little while, not moving. 

He was in The Room and he had no idea what to do about it. Watch her? Wait for her to talk? Pretend to sleep but watch her? Say something?

Ooooh. Watch her and see how often she looks over.

The woman had focus. She didn’t look over. This is a terrible game. C’mon Karin, I could be dying. Quietly. I am dying quietly. 

He could have sworn that he was good with people until…her. Then he became terrible at people, babbling or sitting in The Room and watching her.

I’m not in pain. I can’t say I am, more drugs = stupid loopy. I’m clearly stupid loopy enough.

So he said “It’s really dumb. I don’t know how to talk to you.”

She turned and smiled at him, set her datapad aside and stood next to his bed. “You don’t need to talk to me, Commander. Are you in pain?”

“Only about not being able to talk to you. Here I am in the patient pulpit and I can’t use it.”

“Patient pulpit?”

“Well, you know, there’s a bully pulpit. Usually I’m in that one. Normally I’d just point my gun at you and you do what I say or I shoot you. Easy. But I don’t…want to…oh God.” That was terrible, his mind flooded with telling her what to do at gunpoint was terrible. Oh yes, awful. That’s not going to haunt me every night.

She smiled as if he made sense and moved her hand to check his pulse. Oh God again. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

“Dr. Chakwas. I am in the patient pulpit and I am going to use that opportunity to medically disclose that every single time you touch me…I get a raging hard on of…to me…epic proportions.”

She nodded as though that made sense and that was somehow worse than shock “You should know, Commander, that attachment to caretakers, even sexual fantasy, is not uncommon.”

“Bet it hasn’t been uncommon for you, anyway.”

“No, it has not.”

“Are they still alive and can I punch them?”

“No, not all of them are, and no, you may not.”

“I really want to.”

“Let’s address the patient pulpit and not the bully, shall we?”

Oh God, she said ‘Shall we.’ Why was it that everything she said could be taken immediately out of context?

He swallowed again and closed his eyes. “Karin…maybe someone else should do this. I’m pretty sure the last time you touched me I didn’t embarrass myself because I was in pain and probably unconscious. The pain part didn’t really bother me so much. God, if you don’t stop, I’m going to ask you do to that just a little harder and to the right, and then the left, and then down…”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Physiological and emotional reactions are temporary. They will pass.”

“…I don’t think you understand.”

“I believe I do.”

“No, no. No. You really don’t. Physiological and emotional reactions…of this…uh…caliber… haven’t happened to me before, don’t last for a year and don’t seem to have any chance of stopping. Aaah.”

He grabbed her hand and sat up, a little dizzy but intent on conveying…caliber. “Have dinner with me.”

“What?”

“I am not going to continue a conversation about reactions…in detail…without getting out of this bed and walking somewhere on my own two feet to a location where in theory I’m not a total idiot. Have dinner with me and stop…doing that…right now.” Or I swear I will find a gun and ask you…with a lot of…caliber…to say ‘shall we.’

She looked at him very closely and then said “There are rules about fraternization.”

His heart squeezed and held itself suspended until it started hammering double time. That. Was. Not. No.

He lightened his grip on her hand but didn’t let go. “Karin, I stole an entire ship. A big one. They noticed. I think they know I break rules. I’m a Spectre. I can do that.”

“But I can’t.”

“You…can if I say you can? I think that’s how this should work. That’s how this should work. I’ve decided. That’s definitely how it works. On this ship. My ship.”

“Commander…”

“Not. Commander. I can’t stand that. Yeah, sure, it’s fine when other people do it, but not you. I mean, maybe later but that’s after dinner. God, I hope. Please, I’ve kinda got a combo of gun pointed at you metaphorically and having absolutely no dignity left to be lost. From whatever pulpit, Karin, have dinner with me and I will let you do your job if you ignore…the…gun. Until after dinner. And call me Moya.”

“Everyone else calls you Moya. Perhaps I call you Cherie?”

He’d never appreciated his name until now. Heat flushed under his skin, he impulsively put his other hand on the back of her neck and pulled her forward, his eyes closed and their foreheads pressed together while he breathed her in. “Yes. That. Please, that.” Then he said slowly “How long you been holding that one in your head?”

“I don’t believe I need to answer that.”

“You…are lovely, and…how long am I going to be here?”

“Two more days at least.”

“I don’t mean galley dinner, I mean a restaurant. What do you like?” He didn’t even consider letting her go, head or hand, until she said yes or sedated him.

“I know a few places on the Citadel.”

“Pick one.”

“What do you like?”

“You. I don’t care if it’s dextro.”

She laughed, began to pull back and he reluctantly let her go.

She pulled back and tilted her head and said “While you are in my Med Bay I will call you Commander.”

He smiled and said “Yes, ma’am.”

She gave him an extra blanket and returned to her datapad, and he closed his eyes, spread the blanket over his lap with the biggest smile he may have ever had on his face. Felt like the biggest.

She informed him he’d had three broken bones and a ruptured disc.

Not anymore. Well, something was fit to rupture but at least now…Cherie.

As close to and as far from Jerry as he could want.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

He behaved…mostly…for those two days and did no yanking of her person. No yanking of his person either, though that part was rough. She really had no idea. He was willing to use the word ‘obsessed’ and it appears she had politely ignored it but been aware, as the rest of the crew was, because they weren’t idiots and he was.

But she said yes to dinner and he was going to celebrate by not being an idiot for a bit, just someone with a questionably goofy smile and a tendency to have…things in his lap. Things he wanted to replace with a person.

She thought it was a crush that would pass. Of course she did, he could imagine in her career how many men and women moving through her med bays, leaving with extra symptoms.

He did have to clear off the Normandy, relocate to the Citadel until they straightened out this whole ‘stolen ship’ thing. 

To his surprise, she didn’t file charges. She was going to dinner with him. 

He was possibly the luckiest man in existence.

He arranged for a suit. These were not things he was usually in, but he wanted to look good, and he did. According to many people he was a very handsome man, so he was grateful the suit propped up that impression. He got a very expensive haircut where thick waves of black hair were admired and carefully sheared to created a sculpted effect he ruined after leaving by running his hand through his hair because it didn’t feel right when it couldn’t breathe. Then he took a shower to get the gunk out of it because yes, he wanted to look good, but he was not that committed to hair perfection, and he ran his hands through it so often that he was afraid of leaving tracks.

Ready to go he looked good, black suit to match his hair, tungsten fittings to go with his grey eyes. Or her grey hair. He gave himself a slight pep talk “Okay, so you’re an idiot, but something can be done about that, we hope. You used to have an IQ. You can have one again. Don’t blow this.”

It would have been fine if three Batarians for no good reason tried really hard to kill him on his way to the restaurant. They were letting out of a bar and drunk, recognized him and he got punched in the back once, maybe Batarian kidneys were in different places than humans, because it should have taken him down at least to his knees a few inches in the right…or wrong direction.

They were ready for him either way, and his arms were restrained fast.

Shit, and he really wanted to be there…on time…not bleeding…and alive.

“Why do you guys have this specific timing?” The Batarian not holding him got in a gut punch, but restraining Moya’s arms was not much in the way of restraint. He really wanted to protect his jacket though. Feet were fine. He slammed a foot down on the Batarian’s foot on his left side. Well…his boot hadn’t looked that hard. Moya hurt his foot, but he did manage an angled follow up kick to the point above his boot, a nice satisfying crack. One not down, but definitely angry. Moya aimed a head butt…going for hair, which would bounce back better and not forehead…to the Batarian in front of him winding up for another hit, but he didn’t have the reach for it and the Batarian wasn’t leaning forward. The guy on his left let go of his arm though, because drunk and ow.

“You guys should really just let me go, I’m busy. I’m going to be late. I don’t want to be late. I’ll buy you a drink?”

Growling was the only answer.

“Seriously? Not even alcohol?”

He swung his left elbow back into the Batarian’s gut and he was extra special down and angry, then reversed the direction of his arm and got the Batarian in front of him with a punch to what was supposed to be his nose, but he moved, and an eye was fine.

The guy on the right swung in and around and Moya took a hit in his eye as well.

“Oh for…really?”

He was still more irritated than angry, no guns, no knives, mostly drunken incompetence and…now…limited vision on the left side.

C-Sec must have be stationed near, the Batarians were hauled up by Turians in imposing armor.

After the scuffle they told him “You need to come to the station, file a complaint.”

“Oh hell no.” He looked down, torn sleeve, eye partly closing, officially mussed.

“Sir, please.”

“No. I have somewhere to be. I am a Spectre.” He hauled out his Omni Tool and granted codes. “Find me later if this seems too difficult to figure out. These guys are drunk. And stupid. They are not my problem. Lots of people want to kill me. Check with Garrus Vakarian. He’ll back me up. I have to go. You guys have cameras everywhere, I’m sure you can figure out this mystery.”

There were only two C-Sec agents and three Batarians so they had not much choice in letting Moya walk away. He very calmly walked the short way to the restaurant, drawing gasps and stares. Well, he was Shepard, he’s used to that, right?

Fuck.

She was seated, he was late, and she was beautiful in a silver dress, lovely green eyes turned to look at him.

He sat and tried to keep his sleeve from flapping, ended up tearing it off. He smiled and said “Batarians.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“That eye needs to be addressed.”

“No. NO. Appetizers. Appetizers need to be addressed. Dammit. Come on, you’re a doctor, you’re used to this sort of thing.”

“Not over canapés.”

“Did you just politely tell me I ruined your appetite?”

She said softly “Cherie, you are bleeding. A great deal.”

He leaned forward to the table and said “Fine, when you call me that I will do anything you say.”

“We’ll take a car to the Clinic.”

“I’m not standing up until you promise me…another…dinner. And that time even…even if I’m bleeding. We’re eating.”

“I will defer dinner, I will never allow you to bleed over food.”

“Tell me what you won’t allow, Karin. Tell me all of it.” He was smiling and she smiled back.

He stood up, offered her his non-destroyed suit sleeve and she linked her arm with his, they walked out to personal cameras and he thought…scattered clapping, which made him smile.

He said with dignity “I bet I look disreputable. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“No, in your case it is not.”

“Oh thank God.”

“Can you still see through that eye?”

“Barely.”

“Allow me to drive. Who attacked you?”

“Ah, damn, I should have thought of a cool story. Wouldn’t it be great if I saved a varren puppy from galactic…varren puppy traders? Instead of drunken Batarians seeing an opportunity to destroy formalwear.”

She laughed and he said “Your laugh…does things to me.”

“And your remaining formalwear is impressive, despite the absence of varren puppies.”

“And you…look beautiful. I’m sorry I’m late. I’m sorry I’m…bleeding.”

“I suppose it is to be expected.”

“Promise me another dinner.”

“As you wish.”

“I’ll get there an hour early. I’ll hire bodyguards.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“It might. You don’t know. Look…have Dr. Michel fix my eye or I swear if you lean toward me in that dress I am not responsible for my actions.”

He did get patched up and his evening was not ruined but it appeared hers was, and she drove him back to his apartment and dropped him off, his eye patched.

“So this was our first date. Or can we just forget this happened and start over?”

“I don’t believe I will forget it.”

“I was afraid of that. Karin, would you please come in? I can get something that is not…completely torn. It won’t be as expensive though.”

“What you should do is rest.”

“Why are you always telling me this? Rest means bed. I’m all for that, just include yourself.”

“No, Cherie.”

“Not no forever, just no now, right?”

“Rest.”

“You’re killing me.”

“I’m attempting the opposite.”

“Metaphorically, Karin!”

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

Unfortunately their schedules didn’t mesh until it was time for the Normandy to take off again. He was at hearings and managing revamps on the ship, and she was called away from the Citadel briefly to address a plague at a colony, and he worried. 

He still wasn’t in close communication with her day to day, though he wanted to be. He just thought he was better…at a distance…because he was an idiot.

She was back in time to re-staff the Normandy, but they were both busy with inventory and staffing and the minor problems and issues of re-launch.

Then they were back on the Normandy and she was back to calling him Commander.

He said “What is it with this room? I can’t get you out of it and it seems to have magical powers.”

“Just medical powers, Commander. Here is my domain. Every other room on the ship is yours.”

“So you’re the queen, you’re saying.”

“I would prefer Empress.”

“That’s more than a queen, isn’t it, I should have thought of that. Please, Empress. Come out of this room. Talk to me.”

“I can’t. Not now.”

“Sure you can, watch.”

He…gently…closed his hand around her arm and pulled her toward the back door of the Med Bay…toward that room.

Which he forgot was Liara’s office.

Where…Liara…was.

Oh hell, he’d forgotten it wasn’t just medical supplies back there, like he could rustle up a bed from cotton balls.

Oops.

He smiled at Liara.

Karin stood with her head down and her ‘I am so much smarter than you’ smile, which was true, but kind of mean because he couldn’t kiss her.

Liara looked up and said “Hello…Commander…and Doctor Chakwas…can I help you?”

He took a deep breath and said “No. Look, can we pretend that I came in her and asked you how you were doing like I usually do, instead of pulling this woman in here against her will and making you both potentially terribly embarrassed?”

Karin’s smile widened and she left the room back to The Room.

Liara stared and said “Of course, Commander.”

“Thank you, Liara. I promise not to treat your office like a storage closet.”

“I do not know what that means.”

“Thank God. You’re okay? Need anything?”

“Other than several explanations I am not likely to get, no.”

“Excellent. I’ll be going.”

He stalked back through the Med Bay.

“Well. That didn’t go well. I’m sorry about the idiot thing.”

“You’re charming, Commander. And I am flattered. But adamant.”

“All right, Adamant Empress. Adamant is a mythical metal isn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“I think it’s either grey or green. Fine, I’m leaving, and if I get hurt and I’m back…I didn’t do it in purpose. Maybe.”

There HAD to be a decent storage closet somewhere. There had to be.

Maybe the shuttle. He could…

Stop.

They would make it back to the Citadel. Dinner. Don’t be an ass. Try harder.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

He only had brief moments before he lost all moments, rage and anger, fear and pain, and regret…and praying that Karin got off the ship.

He didn’t believe in God. He did believe in a Goddess.

He didn’t have words for everything he’d missed, everything he’d wanted, hair between his fingers and people saved, to see his mother again.

To be called Cherie.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up to alarms. Waking up felt weird, he did not know where he was, everything hurt.

He remembered how to shoot things, that was at least good.

Through the gritted-teeth emergency, smoke and catching sight of himself in glass, scarred and strained, he gathered that things were not going well.

This was definitely his life.

He…hated Cerberus. Really, really hated Cerberus. Hated their insidious agenda and malicious experiments. 

He hated Reapers more though, and everything was on fire.

Fire bad.

Karin Chakwas’s name only occurred to him a few hundred times but he kept it behind his teeth because Cerberus were the last people he wanted to tell in essence “Hey, if you round up this woman, I’ll do anything you ask.”

They could hold a metaphoric razor to her throat and he’d do anything they said. Cerberus used real razors, sometimes infected with something vile. Shallow cuts.

He had a violent stab of cold when Tali treated him like a remote stranger, her skepticism and distance in keeping with Quarian attitudes toward humans…but not toward him. Collectors gave him another violent stab, and the day had a theme.

It was clear trust was not on the table for a lot of people. Tali should know better…and he began to have a sinking suspicion that maybe…she did.

He was barely civil to The Illusive Man and was going to do his best to play along until he had a better angle, but Joker was a surprise. Moya was grateful to see him. The Normandy…was beautiful. As they stood there watching the ship light up section by section, Joker said “Hey…I thought you should know. Seems like you arrived on an accelerated schedule. Dr. Chakwas wanted to be there for you when you woke up. She insisted. She’ll be here tomorrow, ready to take up her station in the Med Bay.”

“She’s okay?”

“She’s okay. Cerberus contacted us both, we talked…she’s been working on Alliance projects, was part of the Lazarus Project but only remotely, really, Miranda’s apparently…really secretive. The doc’s not really working for Cerberus and wouldn’t sign the releases and confidentiality requests, wouldn’t agree to Cerberus’s terms, not about your care. She did say she’d work for you, not them. She promised to take a leave of absence from the Alliance…if and when you woke up. The Alliance wouldn’t let me fly, Cerberus will.”

“I’m sorry that as a consequence of the loss of the ship…the Alliance grounded you. That’s on me.”

“No, it really isn’t. It’s the Council and their bullshit. Don’t blame yourself. They’d like that. Yeah, I’m bitter. I’ve earned it. You’ll see.”

“Please…tell me that Cerberus has changed.”

“I…I can’t. I can tell you they are the only player in town offering reincarnation for you, a Normandy I can fly and a mission on point. We found it hard to say no to that. Looks like you too. I’m glad.”

“I don’t think I was insured when I died. I will be paying off bills for a while, it seems. Nothing makes me happier to think that Karin’s on her way, unless it’s thinking she should be…far away from me for her own safety.”

“Some of us don’t chase safety, Commander. You should know that.”

Moya smiled “Yeah. You don’t. Someone should thank you for that.”

“Well. I did get you killed.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I totally did, I was there.”

“I was there too. I recall me giving orders that you eventually decided were up to your standards, and I got a little grabby and broke some things.”

“Yeah. My arm still hurts.”

“Want me to even it out, go for the other arm?”

“Nah. That’s okay. I’ll just stick with crushing guilt.”

“Right there with you.”

“Welcome home, Commander. Try not to die. We get upset.”

“I can see that. I’ll do my best. Can you loan me a few billion credits to help me out of debt? I have to pay off the old ship, buy the new one, and then there’s this body, which although he’s a fixer upper, seems to at least look like me. Sorta.”

“They’re not paying me that well. We could hock the ship, but I’d be out of a job. Counterproductive.”

“Thank you, Joker.”

“Next time you tell me anything…I’m on it. I promise.”

“Next time I’ll go easier on your arm.”

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

Moya was on the ship fast, finding his way around. She was beautiful. Evil was well bankrolled and not cheap.

He asked EDI to inform him…the moment…Karin Chakwas set foot on the Normandy.

“Not two moments later, EDI.”

“The moment.”

“Not three moments later, EDI.”

“The exact moment.”

“You could even tell me before she gets here? Do you have external cameras?”

“I will inform you when she requests permission to come aboard.”

“She has that permission.”

“The moment.”

“Before the moment.”

“Are you certain Commander?”

“Are you screwing with me?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “Thank you, EDI.”

“You appear to have a strong sense of humor, Commander. I thought it would be…welcoming.”

“It is.”

Evil was more scary when it was rich and had a sense of humor, but he wouldn’t miss Karin’s arrival.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

“Commander, Doctor Karin Chakwas is requesting permission to come aboard.”

“Is she?”

“She is approaching the airlock.”

“EDI, I changed my mind, lock her out.”

“Are you…screwing with me?”

“No. Lock her out. Permission is not denied, just deferred. I will personally grant permission.”

“Yes, Commander.”

He sprinted to the airlock, got into the decontamination chamber and then said “EDI, are there cameras in here?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Not now there aren’t. Not ones that work.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Which button do I use to override airlock automatic opening?”

She highlighted a set of controls. 

“Wonderful. I like you a lot, EDI.”

“I…thank you Commander.”

“No cameras.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“I mean it.”

“Just like you meant the moment and she had permission?”

“I mean this extra more.”

“Noted.”

He expected with his luck to have her accompanied by someone else, but it was just her, thank God, looking slightly puzzled when the airlock door finally opened for her.

He saluted and said “Welcome aboard.”

His unflappable and calm Karin did not salute, but did incline her head and said “Thank you, Commander.” She seemed to expect him to come to her, but he relaxed to parade rest and waited, taking her in. She was so very beautiful, her voice still like a river…and even if she called him the wrong thing…he’d fix that. He just needed her…on HIS ship…to do it.

She did not hesitate for long, stepped into the decontamination chamber, facing in as he faced out. Once the hatch had completely closed he paused the decontamination sequence. Her delicately arched eyebrow went up.

His smile hitched not as delicately. “Karin…two years…and you’ve forgotten what my name is?”

“I have not forgotten.”

“I think you have.” As much as he often tried to downplay his size and put people at ease, right now he enjoyed that she had to look up at him. He turned not quickly, but determined, both of her eyebrows rising and that provoking a full smile from him. He stepped toward her and she stepped back, startled, but she had nowhere to go. She wasn’t in her Med Bay, she wasn’t the Empress…yet. She kept backing up until her shoulders were against the wall and his hands came to hold her face between them. He stroked his thumbs along her cheekbones, wide green eyes staring at him.

He thought for a brief moment that he would explain, but he wanted to show her. Explaining hadn’t worked before and he’d be damned if dying did not teach him some things about timing and taking decisive action.

He bent his head, pulled her to him with his hands and kissed her, a shocked and satisfying sound coming from her of surprise. Not outrage. Not rejection. Surprise. Definitely…not…no.

Thank God.

Thank the river.

Thank Karin.

He brushed his lips against hers and his nose against the side of hers, soaking in the texture of her lips, long imagined, and the familiar about her, crisp laundry and subtle perfume, combined comfort and care. The next sound she made was a soft moan, her stiff neck muscles relaxing under his fingertips as she tilted her head to kiss him back, dragging a moan from deep in his chest.

Her hands came tentatively to his shoulders and one of his arms moved to curl around her waist, pulling her against him. Not off the floor, not yet…but some day Karin…off the floor. I am going to sweep you off your feet and you won’t stop me.

I just know better than to do it in your Realm.

Right now, just a blessedly satisfying kiss and a prelude to new rules.

She could kiss…and he lost himself to the taste and feel of her, her waist under his hand, soft suppressed whimpers, she was trembling. Hell, so was he. Her tongue on his was cool mint, warming to friction and insistence on his part and not a little on hers.

Before he lost himself completely and started tearing clothes off of the woman he tipped her head back, kissed down her throat to the hollow at the base, and then up to her ear. “This is a pirate ship, Dr. Chakwas. I’ve welcomed you aboard, but if pirates don’t suit you, you should turn and go…right now. I’m not going to listen to a damned word about not fraternizing. Your Med Bay is your Realm, but I’ve been dead for a little while and I have some time and opportunity to make up for missing. Getting you in my bed and keeping you there makes up about 90% of those plans, the rest involve killing people. If that doesn’t sound like something you want, I’ll open the door for you and wish you well along your way.”

She was hoarse and a little shaky and it took her a few moments, but she said “And now you’ve forgotten my name?”

“Staying or going…Karin?”

“It has been two years…what if I am involved with someone else?”

He laughed at that “You are not a stupid woman. If you cared about…anybody else…you’d be faaaaar away from me. You wouldn’t do that to them. You wouldn’t do that to yourself. You certainly wouldn’t do that to me. I died, you know.” He pulled back and tipped her chin up, looked at her with puppy-dog eyes and asked “Are you that cruel?”

“Perhaps cruelty is necessary to being a pirate.”

“You are so good…at not saying no at the right times. It’s a skill. There’s a technicality. You’re only going to be patching up pirates from your refuge.”

“Then…may I come aboard?”

“Come on Karin…say it.”

Her head tilted to the side and she looked at him with tear-filled eyes “May I come aboard…Cherie?”

“I insist.” He did pull her up off her balance this time, up on her toes if not all the way, her neck bent back against an equally insistent kiss, making absolutely clear that he meant what he said and would mean it every day. Her nails dug into his shoulders and his teeth were on her lower lip and she was beautiful, perfect, and he was so glad to be alive. As always, she had an exaggerated and predictable effect on him, and if they were ever getting out of here, he had to stop.

He pulled back, panting, hands gripped around her neck and waist.

She said softly “I’m glad to see that some things do not change.”

He laughed and said “Me too. Can I ask you a question?”

“What is that?”

“What did you wear to my funeral?”

She sputtered and he smiled, eyes still closed. “That…is a very painful memory.”

“I know, I’m trying to lighten it up. Little black dress…pearls?”

“I was mourning.”

“And I can see it.”

“I mourned.” Her voice was trembling on the edge of crying.

“I’m so sorry, Karin. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Okay, so to recap, you missed me, I missed missing you. You’re not involved with anybody. If you have any plans of being involved with anybody else, get off right now. If you have some misguided idea that you are getting on this ship only to be my medical officer, I appreciate the devoted service, but I need you to go, and do not tell me who you are interested in, I might just kill them accidentally on purpose. I love you. I tried to say it in different ways before, but I didn’t want to scare you. I’m a scary guy, Karin. I love you. This is it. This is me. I’m not wasting time or opportunity. You don’t have to say you love me. Just tell me you’ll give me a chance.”

“I have spent two years mourning the opportunity to find out.”

“You really don’t know? After that kiss and everything? That’s cold. That’s cold, Karin.” He kissed a warm trail along her throat.

“You wish for me to declare love…in an airlock?”

“I just did. What, it’s not good enough for you? Pirate, Karin. Some of us have lowered standards…wait, that came out wrong.”

She laughed, and it was such a lovely sound, his own answering laugh on the skin of her throat, teeth and lips and promise. He stood up and looked down at her, seeing love on her face, as well as grief and shock and surprise. He took her face in his hands again, fingers along her cheekbones. “I admit, that was a bit of an unfair surprise. You’re here. That’s all I need. Kiss me like that, lady, and I really don’t care how you feel. You can hate it. I’ll still have fun.”

“I don’t…”

He laughed “I know. Karin, I know. You’re here. That’s all I need. I mean that. I also need you to know I’m here. For you. I’m still getting used to me being dead and then being alive, you can too. I had to…kiss you…before I sent you down into your Med Bay where my Adamant Empress rules with her sterile fist.” Her eyebrows drew together “Gauze fist?” She shook her head “I’ll work on it. Okay. Where you rule. I’m exactly where I was two years ago, inappropriate and scary. You figure out where you are and where you want to be. I’m not saying I won’t grab you and kiss you, because I will…that’s your fault by the way, you shouldn’t make it so rewarding. But you have two years of reactions to get through…and this amazing kiss…to sort out. Just stay, find your way to me. Please.”

Her arms came around his back and she was crying, her head tucked in under his jaw, his hands in her hair.

They both took some time to gain physiological composure, the red around her eyes and obvious cresting tears kissed away by him, which made him take a little longer to physiologically recover, but he figured he’d just walk straight to the elevator, let her find her way in peace, and go to his cabin, where he could…

Hell, imagine a little black dress with pearls, or take a cold shower, or talk to an empty fish tank.

Pirates had options.

Not the really good ones, he’d love to swashbuckle her up there with him, but although he was decisive, he was not cruel. Or not that cruel.

Really close to it though.

Asking her what she wore to his funeral was light compared to telling her that his last thoughts were of her…or telling her he was terrified of what Cerberus could do to her or with her… or telling her to get off the ship for her own good.

She had every right to be afraid, and so did he.

She was already here, which means Cerberus already knew what she meant to him, considering their thorough research. He couldn’t keep her any safer by ordering her off the ship, and this truly was it, he was this guy, scary and inappropriate, hoping that while they both were under the malevolent eye of a ruthless, murderous and…very effective organization, he’d have a few moments free of tragedy to appear to be as carefree as he appeared, and to hope that she accepted his humor and determination as confidence.

Mortality changes a man, and he considered that as her fingertips traced the odd, glowing scars on his face and he smiled at her as though it did not hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

They were in the fight and in it fast. He was either driven to exhaustion or drove himself there between checking the Normandy for Cerberus shenanigans and keeping in touch with his disparate crew. They seemed on par with his first crew in terms of ‘we just landed here and we’re maybe vaguely going the same way’ except that there were mercenary elements that made his instincts over-report danger, often coming from behind him. Hard to describe. Without trust and teamwork his sense of danger had a bad sunburn and everything set it off, everything hurt, he wondered if he’d get back to himself or if this was permanent, a bizarre side effect of death.

Seemed like an awful curse, as though Charon told him as he passed back over Styx and Acheron – ‘you’re going to live but you’ll be…’

‘Paranoid.’

‘Possibly slightly itchy, maybe some dry mouth.’

Hades was petty.

He felt more often that he should be watching his back…with the people at his back…who should be watching his back…but he didn’t know if it was to stab him there or not.

Now he’d found Garrus, and Garrus was a mess, barely alive. Garrus wouldn’t be alive at all if Moya hadn’t gone after Archangel.

He let Karin work on Garrus, did not draw attention to himself. When he realized he was covered in drying blue blood he went to go shower.

He leaned his head on the tile, remembering the moment of asking someone to stay with Garrus while he went and closed the shutters. He left Miranda with Garrus, took Zaeed, but didn’t trust either of them. Not with Garrus’s life.

Turns out he couldn’t be trusted with Garrus’s life either.

He told himself it could have been worse, would have been worse, gritted his teeth and turned the spray to freezing, standing under it until he started to shiver. He cleared his mind and focused.

On his way back to the Med Bay he got two cups of coffee from the galley and realized he had no idea if Karin drank coffee at all or how she took it if she did. He had an odd moment of business versus pleasure and lover versus colleague. He did not want to impose on her Med Bay without bringing a gift and he did not know what the gift should be. He hadn’t had any spare time to see her other than through the glass, he had established command and she had established her Med Bay and he tried to avoid drawing attention to her, though he was sure he couldn’t help it. His mouth twisted in frustration and then he smoothed out his expression through sheer will, dumped both cups because she’d be in surgery for who knew how long. He was not a guest or a lover. He was someone potentially screwing up sterile precautions.

He chose to re-enter the Med Bay quietly, sat as far away as possible and did not stare at her, at the trays that became covered with blue spatter holding inexplicable gadgets, some of them ending up a permanent part of the Turian whose heart beat seemed too slow to sustain life. He didn’t ask questions. He kept his mind as clear as he could. Exhaustion, fear, trauma and responsibility would wear him down if he let it. 

Garrus had not left a forwarding address, had not wanted to be found, and Moya had only recently been upgraded from dead.

People lose touch when they’re dead.

The surgery took twelve hours. Karin was as cool and elegant in her motions, her voice with her assistants as calm and sure at the end as she had been at the beginning, spinning miracles from tech, the inner workings of her mind and the steady grace of her hands. She did not take a break. He had to leave a few times to handle alerts on ship business but returned quietly to keep vigil.

When Garrus was cleaned up, bandaged, all spatter removed from bed, floor and people, when Garrus looked as though he were only sleeping comfortably and not under heavy Turian sedation, Karin came toward Moya and said softly “Commander, Garrus is going to be fine. He is going to have extensive scarring on his face. I would offer to remove them, but retaining scars as symbols of valor is a tradition among Turians and it would be rude for me to make that choice myself.”

Moya laughed “Yeah, wouldn’t want him getting angry for putting him back together. His temper seems to have gotten a bit worse. Not that I blame him. He has not had his best week. Karin, do you drink coffee?”

She blinked “No.”

He nodded “All right then. Do you drink tea?”

She smiled “No. Despite my accent and origins I never developed the habit. Stationed on too many far-flung bases. It seemed an expensive habit to develop.”

“You eat though. I almost saw it once. Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, no. Can I get you anything?” She was smiling, teasing.

“Tell me what to do. I’ll stay here, you go get some sleep.”

“Commander, that is not necessary. The staff are perfectly capable of alerting me.”

His smile was rueful and part teasing and part pain “Karin, would it kill you to need something every now and again?”

“Perhaps not me, but it might kill others.”

“Right. Not as rhetorical as I might have hoped. When is he going to be conscious?”

“I would like to allow twelve hours for integration of the cybernetics before waking him.”

“And you’re going to sleep?”

“I am.”

“May I walk you to your cabin?”

“If you would, yes, please.”

He held out his arm and she smiled, placed her hand through his elbow and they walked. Her cabin wasn’t far. He was shattered, exhausted and trying not to show it since she was so capable, able to manage a 12 hour shift to save a life without losing any of her grace. He was so far out of place he feared he’d never find his way back to the life he had imagined once. He didn’t trust his crew, the one crew member he did trust had been about to cross back over the Turian river of the underworld, a Turian who could not swim. Karin had come on board with faith and trust Moya did not deserve, could not provide. Not here. He was indebted to Cerberus and it appeared his cash wasn’t good elsewhere.

When they got to his door he said solemnly “Karin, thank you. Without you he’d be dead.”

She didn’t disagree. It had been dire and the gurgling spatter of blue blood was fresh enough for both of them to be unable to put it behind them as something trivial. She passed her cool palm over his cheek and he closed his eyes. He was ready to tear himself away and head to his cabin, exhausted, but she took his hand with her other hand and led him inside.

She indicated a seat at a small table and he sat, a little unsteadily. She had a private cabin that was perhaps half the size of his, without the office but with her own bathroom. Very nice. She said “Cerberus was eager to acquire my services” in explanation.

“I’m grateful and terrified.”

“That does seem to describe your mission. You asked me what I drank.” She filled two tumblers with blue liquid “Serrice Ice Brandy. Caffeine may not always be available, alcohol is. This is Asari.”

He took a sip. “Strong stuff.”

“I bought this bottle the day Cerberus asked me to work for them, which I negotiated to working for you. The day I believed it was possible you might come back.”

He lifted his eyes to her, smiled and took a sip “Stronger stuff.”

“Cherie, I was so sorry to hear that your mother had passed. She was a lovely woman. I spoke to her after your death.”

He swallowed. His mother had died nine months ago. Sky car accident. She had never trusted them. One of her strange prohibitions, but she always found an excuse to use them rather than walk. If she were here she’d be blaming her death on Mars being in retrograde and how that affected traffic patterns. His mom was now in retrograde. He missed her. “Thank you.”

Time had passed him by, the rhythm of life shattered. He felt the existential crisis of not knowing whether or not he could trust himself, with so many people choosing not to. It seemed they all knew something he didn’t.

He lifted tortured eyes to her, wanting to say something about gratitude, or about his mother, wanting to be worthy of trust he did not feel he deserved. He had wanted to keep Karin safe, make her happy and that seemed…naïve. Impossible. All the force he felt in her presence, wanting to be near her, now he felt like he should run away as far as possible. He should not have allowed her on board. He should have…

He should not have been so selfish. 

She smiled at him softly and said “I’ve seen that look. Not on your face before.”

“What look?”

“Self doubt.”

“Have you ever had this look on your face?”

“Many times.”

“Really? You, Karin? I don’t believe it.” He was trying to tease her but it came out solemn, with the flavor of the doubt on his lips, in his blood.

“When I bought this bottle in fact.”

He carefully took a sip and said “What did you doubt then?”

“You were dead. That seemed a solid thing. A true thing. Something final and absolute. Coming back to life was doubtful.”

“So we’re both concerned that I am not a true thing. Or that I am a thing. You shouldn’t have to deal with the uncertainty.”

She took her own careful sip and then knocked back the entire tumbler with a slight grimace. He’d be coughing if he tried that. He smiled in admiration. She stood up and dusted herself off slightly, no dust on her.

“Cherie, come here.”

He reached for his tumbler, knocked it back, coughed because he knew that was going to happen but just had to check. She smiled at him. He stood up and walked to her. She was so…just the waves of admiration, attraction, protection, a lodestone of good things in her. Good things she pulled from him, that he wanted to give.

She took his face between her hands and said “Death was an absolute. When I bought this bottle I did not really believe…but I wanted it to be true. I missed you every day, Cherie, missed the opportunity to see you smile. Just having this bottle and possibly not having to drink it alone…meant more to me than all the final absolutes. If you’re not entirely you, if you feel doubt, then I can tell you the same thing you told me. Without you Garrus would be dead. Don’t let doubt rob you of a chance to find a new life. Would it kill you to need something every now and again?” Her eyes were sparkling with laughter at that last statement.

“Lady, I have been chasing you for…well for me… a long time… and the impulse to continue to do it survived death. I have no doubt about that. You have no idea how ironic it is you asking me about need.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I’m afraid they’re going to hurt you.”

“And I’m afraid they’re going to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Did you not understand the story about the hope in the blue bottle?”

“I like the story about the hope in the silver and green woman more.”

“I know you’re tired, in doubt, worried and afraid. I’d like to wait until you are rested and certain, but the last time I turned you away would have been the last time I would have seen you at all if not for a crisis and a miracle.”

“I’m the crisis and you’re the miracle?”

“I have learned something. Crisis will follow you and I should take my opportunity for hope when I can.”

He was going to say he wanted to give her more than crisis and doubt, felt again that he should have brought a gift to her, at least his best self, but he did not have it. Her green eyes closed as she moved up on tip toes to kiss him, her hands along the side of his face and throat. He couldn’t think, melting sensation like rain, like her river, moving slowly and washing everything away that could be a word or a thought, leaving behind warm and clean.

He didn’t move, held still by a reverence for her that didn’t let him take an action like try to touch her. He savored being touched, focused on the feel of her hands on his face, her mouth on his, bending his head down to try to kiss her back. Floodgates and flashes, moments of watching her through the glass in the Med Bay, all that frustration and longing and love.

He loved her. That he knew. Being loved back…invited inside…

He thought she smiled, and moved one of her hands to take one of his, place it around her waist. His breath moved faster but he still could not move, focused on her mouth, the taste of her and the rumble of loosed…

Loosed what?

He wanted her and had, found it impossible to be around her without staring and babbling, trying to find it in himself to be a man she might need or want. It seemed he didn’t really think it would ever come true, that he’d chase after her until civilizations crumbled and life was exterminated.

That he’d chase while the inevitable and the solid happened.

So after chasing…to hold still was transcendent. He felt he wanted to stand still for as long as he’d chased after her, to hold still and need her.

That was a lovely thought but it seemed that once her soft moan vibrated across his lips, he’d had just about enough of standing still, that rumbling of loosed desire after a moment of suspension collapsed into kinetic need to match the more solemn themes.

His other hand moved around her waist, pulled her up and in, hand on her lower back, the slight ridge of her spine under his hand precious because it was hers.

Exhaustion, a shot of Serrice Ice Brandy and a woman of silver and green hope in his arms and suddenly he could do anything again.

Anything.

He could be anyone he wanted, he could do whatever he wanted, he could save a friend because he had her on board. He could save a galaxy because he had her to protect.

He murmured “Karin?”

“Mmm?”

“I know this all started out as a doubt…pity thing, and I appreciate it, I do. Tell me to go…right now…because I’ve moved past being consoled…really fast. I mean really fast. Whiplash fast.”

“You want to talk about your whip?”

He laughed and said “I want to talk about my whip. I want you to talk about my whip. My God do I love your voice. You taste like brandy and beautiful. Please tell me I get the girl.”

“You get the woman.”

“Right now. Tell me I get the woman right now.”

“You get the woman right now.”

“I know we’ve had an unusual courtship, I’m going to tell you, right now and often, that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh, please say ‘I love you, Cherie.’”

“I love you, Cherie.”

“That’s it. I’m saving the galaxy, I’m doing it for you. Just like I did with the Citadel.”

She laughed against his mouth and it was the most delicious thing. It drew his attention back to her lips and he murmured “Talk later, kiss now.”

Finally, finally, finally, not a no.

He didn’t doubt she meant it, he didn’t doubt that at all, but he did think she would possibly come to her senses and he didn’t want that either. Her hands stayed on his face, pulling him down, his hands around her waist lifted her up and he kissed her, she kissed him, laughter gone and no more questions.

He wanted to fumble and tear, but she as always was graceful and sedate, he slowed down to appreciate his hands on cloth and then skin, her hands removing all their clothing blind because he was too clumsy and occupied with her mouth and the texture of her skin under his hands.

Then she was moving down and he tried to follow her with his mouth until he couldn’t, until he almost whined with her being away, until her hands were on his back, her mouth on his chest and all he could do was to stand again, not chasing and getting the woman finally, finally, hands in silver hair that was thick and warm between his fingers, sliding strands.

Her hands traced the muscles of his abdomen, trailing fingertips and her teeth on the ridges of his ribs, lips on his stomach. He wanted to pull her back up and throw her onto the bed but she resisted the pull of his hands on her shoulders. Then her mouth was on his cock and he could not think, could not move, closed his eyes and promised to really, save the galaxy. Save the shit out of it. Save it twice. Save it every fucking day.

Oh God.

Her mouth still had a cool burn of strong alcohol, her hands doing…things…he could not describe except in moans and shudders and his hands in her hair. He was still and reverent, felt like a God in a very non-ironic way, as though he’d been brought back to life because this was what he had missed and that would have been, had been, unbearably cruel, to have come so close to her and failed to experience what it was like to have her mouth, her hands on his body with the warmth of her lips still against his. Volcanic need built until he did not care that she resisted, he picked her up and had her back on the bed without thinking about it, his mouth down her throat, her breasts, hands along skin that moved with his fingertips.

She started to moan and he wanted more of that, definitely more of that, time speeding up and action dictated by more of her moans and making her arch into him. He’d only gotten her halfway on the bed so he knelt on the floor as she had, his tongue finding her clit, his hand hitching her thigh over his shoulder as his other hand held one of side of her hips down. He’d been hard in her presence forever and now he was going to enjoy it, throb and volcanic simmer as her moans built and time dilated again in a Godlike rush of one more thing to savor about her. The river of her voice turned to waterfalls and whirlpools as he held her hip down and her ankle dug into his back.

She came in a glorious clenching arching rush. He watched her face for a few crucial seconds, green eyes clenched tightly closed and her head back, silver pool of hair that was always so sleek, now hand combed and mussed just right.

He stood, hauling her thighs up along his abdomen, a frenzy of heat and home and his hands at her hips in the volcanic, driven slams, more sound from her in a wail and he was gone, blinding Godlike everything right because everything was her.

He was dizzy, exhausted, exalted and God needed a fucking nap but he’d wake up, and he’d wake up next to her and then he had everything he needed for the first time in a lifetime of chasing it, her, them.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

Moya went to go check on Garrus, who was sitting up in the Med Bay bed, looking like he wanted to murder anybody who wanted to keep him there. Moya smiled “Hey. You’re alive. Good job there.”

“Yeah, thanks for the rescue.”

“Sorry about your face.”

“Sorry about yours.”

“Shut up, I’m gorgeous.”

“So am I!”

“Yeah you are. So you haven’t been looking at Karin like that have you?”

“What? No. I don’t want to die.”

“Yeah, I’d kill you.”

“You? I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about her.”

“Missed you.”

“Of course you did. I’m gorgeous.”

“And so is Karin.”

“Finally managed to get her to take pity on you?”

“Yes, and you helped. I was all grief stricken.”

“She fell for that?”

“I fell for that.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“Get there sooner next time, Moya.”

“We’re going to save the galaxy for Karin.”

“Of course we are.”

“We’ll save Palaven too.”

“Well, yeah, part of the galaxy.”

“So everyone wins. Do Turians really prize scars for valor or something?”

“Yeah. Humans don’t?”

“I don’t know, I’m too pretty, I don’t worry about stuff like that. But I should know.”

“Yeah, so Turians, Krogan, Asari, Drell and humans are going to find me impossible to resist.”

“Can you take the Batarians and Vorcha too? I only need one human, you can have the rest.”

“Hey, if we save the galaxy, can I name Palaven ‘Garrus’s Place’?”

“Sure.”

“Feeling better already.”

“We’ve got a big gun.”

“Yeah? That isn’t a euphemism for anything, is it?”

“What? No. If you were interested you should have made a move.”

“Nah. You don’t have cool scars.”


	5. Chapter 5

After seeing David Archer, Moya did not lose his temper.

He kept all of his temper.

Tali and Garrus were with him and he entrusted to their technical expertise to get David down. 

Gavin started to talk and he was reminded that Gavin existed, and then the words “No, leave him, he’s too valuable!” happened.

Gavin raised a gun and Moya was relieved by the action. He wanted to string the man up where David was now. To keep from being tempted to do exactly that, he opted for a clean hole in Gavin Archer’s head.

Garrus observed “Suicide by Shepard. Interesting choice.”

Moya went to go find a blanket, some food and something to drink for David.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Back on the Normandy Moya sat next to David’s bed in the Med Bay as Karin cared for him. He would have reached out and taken David’s hand but the boy shivered and flinched when touched.

Moya chewed on the inside of his bottom lip and waited until David was sedated and Karin was the river and not the rapids.

Moya asked almost absently “How do you feel about kids?”

Karin raised a brow and answered carefully “I approve of children in general.”

“And specifically?”

“Which child specifically?”

She didn’t call him Commander at least. “This one. I’m sure it would be a legal nightmare and I don’t care. I killed his brother. His legal guardian is probably a Cerberus lawyer somewhere and I… no. Can’t do that. I can’t drop him off anywhere. Cerberus knows he’s here. Cerberus knows who he is. If I left him anywhere… his ‘guardian’ would come collect him and… Can’t do that.”

“Are you proposing adoption?”

“Yes. If we can’t do that legally then I’m proposing continued piracy. Cerberus might know he’s here and might know who he is, but they will also know that I’m serious about protecting him. I can’t think of anywhere that’s safe for him. The Normandy may not be safe, but I wouldn’t be abandoning him.”

“Done. Will we also be adopting Jack and Grunt?”

“I love you, so much. They are big kids, but I think of them as more of a counter-argument to Cerberus’s intentions. Cerberus has lawyers. I have a woman who wants to kill everybody from Cerberus and a Krogan that wants to kill… well… everybody. I also want about sixteen more kids with green eyes and silver hair.”

“That is unlikely.”

“Might take a while. Hey, that’s a bit backward. Something should come before adoption. Marry me.”

“I believe this is an inappropriate time to discuss this.”

“C’mon, Karin. Bend the rules. I know you’re Empress here, but we can both compromise. You can say ‘I will marry you, Commander.’”

“I do not believe I will.”

“Not leaving until you do. It’s a pirate wedding and a pirate adoption. Very little paperwork. You could make me leave, but I’d be right outside that door thinking of embarrassing ways to swashbuckle you into compliance.”

“You cannot shame me into marrying you.”

“Wow, do you underestimate me.”

She walked to him and kissed his forehead, put her hand on his shoulder as they both looked down at David.

They stayed until she was certain David was stable and would sleep until she came back. She would get a few hours of sleep and she assured them they could both be there when he woke. Miranda would watch over him while he slept in the meantime.

Stepping over the threshold of the Med Bay together he picked her up the moment her feet were off the floor of Her Realm and held on with love, lust, gratitude and desperation. He said “I wish I could keep you safe, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I wish there were a place, any place, safe from Cerberus, Collectors, Reapers…”

“You are doing the right thing, Cherie.”

“You’ve both been through worse than I have… you’re the one protecting me half the time.”

“Only half?”

He kissed her and said “Marry me all the time.”

“Yes.”

“See what I did there? Made you feel all sorry for me. I did shame you into marrying me. Knew I could. I know Captains of boats can perform weddings, but that rule isn’t helpful if that’s me. How about I put Garrus in charge for a little while and he performs the ceremony?”

“When?”

“I’m thinking now.”

“Garrus is resting.”

“He is not, he’s calibrating something. I’m sure of it.”

“I will not be rushed into a shame marriage.”

“You are… SO… difficult. Okay. Getting started on more kids it is then. I’ll compromise. Tomorrow. Turians only need four hours of sleep.”

“Very well.”

“Hah! See? Careful, lady, or I’ll start to think you like me.”

“I love you, Cherie.”

“Oh, take that back. I’m a pirate. A very bad man.”

She smiled at him and he forgot entirely about teasing her. She was warm, steady love, the chill of the day and the horror of what they faced pushed back by the light in her eyes.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

Zaeed was the something old. 

Grunt was the something new.

The Normandy was the something borrowed.

Garrus was the something blue.

Karin was lovely in a silver gown with a bouquet of green… well, they weren’t exactly flowers and Mordin wouldn’t really explain, but she was lovely.

Kelly cried.

Tali cried.

Jack was rumored to have cried, but nobody would confirm and he hadn’t been paying attention.

Garrus officiated. “We gather here today because I’m in charge and I’m a better Commander, so glad he’s come to realize it.”

Moya said “Turian Rebel is not funny.”

Garrus said “Turian Rebel is not trying to be funny. This is a solemn occasion. I’m being solemn. And honest.”

“Joker’s about to be put in command.”

“He can’t take me.”

Joker said “Really can’t. I didn’t pack formalwear or a rocket launcher. I’m just wearing my best cap.”

Garrus smirked “Told you. Karin… you sure about this? We’ve got a shuttle ready. We can’t stand to see you sacrifice yourself.”

Karin said “Anybody mutinying will find themselves short of Medigel and relying upon tissues on their next mission.”

Garrus grinned “Right. Mutineers to the shuttle after the ceremony.”

Moya said “I love her so much.”

Garrus said “Yeah, you might have mentioned that part a few times. We have a short tribute. Okay, a long tribute. Karin, you might blush.”

What followed was a video compilation of Moya declaring his love for Karin on every mission, planting improvised flags in her honor in patches of ground… and occasionally planting guns as flags in or on people… dead people… complete with bad Omni Tool angles and laughter, under the breath declarations of ‘This is for Karin… take 47.’

Moya said “I declared Zorya your planet, too. Where’s that clip?”

Zaeed said “You punched me.”

“You deserved it!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Moya told Karin “If Zorya weren’t permanently on fire, we’d honeymoon there.”

Karin said “There’s a shuttle.”

“We should probably stay here. As you’ve noticed, it gets rowdy out there.”

Garrus said “Okay, he drugged her somehow or she’s just that loyal.”

Karin said “I happen to love the man.”

Garrus said “No, I don’t believe that. That’s silly. Anyway, he’s handsome apparently and he’s a pirate.”

Moya said “Thank God she’s shallow and has no viable exit strategy.”

Garrus nodded solemnly and said “Karin, we all thank you for making an honest man out of him.”

Moya said “That bit is not actually legally binding.”

Garrus said “By the temporary power vested in me by Shepard, who is unwise enough to take back his ship - ”

Moya said “Not until after the honeymoon is over.”

Garrus said “Karin Chakwas, do you promise to love him, keep him sane, patch him up and allow him to claim the rest of the galaxy in your name? Except Palaven. That’s mine. He promised.”

Grunt said “Tuchanka’s mine!”

Mordin said “She can have Sur’Kesh.”

Garrus said “Plus love him.”

Karin said calmly “I do.”

Garrus asked “Moya Shepard, do you promise to try to do that sane thing, get patched up and continue to claim the rest of the galaxy in her name? Love her, protect her, care for this woman who is obviously too good for you?”

“I do.”

“I pronounce you husband and wife. May the Spirits grant you joy.”

Moya said “We talked about this Garrus, I get to kiss the bride.”

“Thought you were kidding. In front of everyone? Humans. That okay with you, Karin?”

Karin, smiling, leaned up and kissed him, laughter on their lips and joy in her eyes.

They didn’t throw rice, they threw ammo, but not directly at them. Thankfully.


	6. Chapter 6

Leaning back, Moya looked through the open canopy above the bed in their cabin. Karin was reclining on his chest, reflected light from the waves of mass effect energy putting a blue sheen into her silver hair. He said softly “Did I thank you for marrying me?”

“Yes.”

“Did I thank you enough for marrying me?”

“I believe so.”

“Wrong. I will never be able to thank you enough for marrying me.”

“We disagree on that point.”

“Have you thanked me for marrying you?”

“No.”

He grinned at her teasing tone and said “What do you think, should I change my name? You’re famous and established, you can’t change your name to Shepard.”

“Professionally that would be prudent.”

“So I’ll change mine.”

“That is unnecessary.”

“Wrong again. Cherimoya Chakwas. Can’t get better. I appreciate my name finally for the symmetry.”

“No.”

“You lack a romantic soul, Karin.”

“I shall forgive you for saying that. Neither my romance nor my soul resides in my last name or yours.”

“I suppose you are better at anatomy. Oh hell, I said anatomy. Here comes more stuff you’re going to have to forgive me for.”

She laughed and turned to kiss him, with her green eyes bright and her hair sharing its blue and silver with his hands.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

Moya was thrilled “It’s a talking Geth!”

Garrus growled “It’s a menace. It also probably has bad aim and was aiming for you.”

Moya said stoutly “No. It’s a talking Geth. David should have a toy.”

Thane said skeptically “A Geth with a rifle is not a toy, Shepard.”

Moya said with conviction “David’s been through a lot and he should decide.”

Garrus paused from picking off more husks for only a brief moment “Maybe David should be in charge.”

Moya laughed, body checked a husk attempting to give him a hickey. “These things are nasty. I hope they’re not contagious. I should bring one home to Karin.”

Thane said “I am certain she would be thrilled with a Geth and a husk.”

Moya said cheerfully “That’s what I’m saying! My family is the best.”

Garrus grumbled “Your family’s gonna be dead.”

Moya tsked “Garrus, you’re bringing me down.”

Garrus said “No, the seven husks that almost made it to you were about to bring you down. I’m the one that stopped that.”

Thane paused after snapping a brittle neck with a spray of foul blue resulting “I occasionally wonder if Karin Chakwas simply kisses him to keep him from speaking.”

Moya grinned “Absolutely she does.”

Thane nodded sagely “Wise woman.”

Moya nodded emphatically “BEST woman! Ah crap. Abomination. More nasty. I don’t believe all those heads are functional. Inefficient design.”

Garrus muttered “Starting to hope the Geth comes back.”

Moya said cheerily “Right?!”

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

When Moya carried a beat-up Geth into the Med Bay Karin looked up at him in what for her was alarm. Her eyebrows rose fractionally. Moya’s eyes searched the room for David, who wasn’t paying any attention and then was, interest sparking in his otherwise dull eyes. David preferred Karin’s company to Moya’s, which was a sign of good sense. David did not speak and Moya didn’t expect him to any time soon or ever… he’d been through enough.

David had stopped having to ask to make anything stop, and that’s what mattered. David had spent weeks in the Med Bay under Karin’s care and then afterward preferred to spend his time with the tech in the bay, Karin saying he was making improvements. 

Moya tended to leave the two smartest people in the room alone, cutting down on his usual chatter around David so he wasn’t a source of noise that might set the boy on edge. He hopefully was delivering the right sort of chatter this time. Geth.

Moya smiled lopsidedly at her and said “Present for David.” She spared a look at the Geth and then looked back at him. He said in explanation “I didn’t put that hole there.”

Her eyebrows stayed raised.

Moya said “He’s apparently very valuable, so Cerberus says. A talking Geth.” He raised his voice. Not high enough to upset David, just high enough so any listening devices could pick up his further emphatic repetition of “Cerberus can go screw themselves.” 

She asked “A talking Geth?”

“Said my name and everything. Well. My title and my name. Shepard Commander.”

“In English?”

“In something translatable into English. Could have shot at me, instead shot at something aiming for me.”

“Wouldn’t it be better in Engineering?”

“Only if David’s there.”

She tilted her head “You are hoping they could speak to each other?”

“Yes.”

David stood up and was peering from a distance. They all seemed to feel some hope that maybe the thing wouldn’t murder them all.

Karin raised up on tiptoe and kissed Moya’s cheek and then said “Put it down. You’re bleeding, a great deal.”

He shook his head “Not my blood.”

“Cherie, you were out with Garrus and Thane. Garrus has blue blood. Thane has green blood. You were fighting Reapers. That blood is yours.”

“You are… so smart. I love you.”

“Put it down.”

Moya set the Geth carefully on a bed. Not one close to David, but one close enough for him to approach, giving David a smile and then backing away, sitting down on the edge of one bed where he could watch and where Karin could start addressing all the blood that was in fact his blood.

Karin asked “Bite marks?”

“The husks were hungry.”

Moya smiled as Karin made everything better.

David approached the Geth slowly, his fingertips reaching for the gaping hole through the chest of the Geth. David then looked at Moya who repeated again earnestly “I didn’t do it.”

Adrenaline and pain were slowly replaced with Medigel, river voice, her hands and his curiosity as he watched David with more animation than he’d seen. David’s hands became less exploratory and more purposeful and Moya watched, fascinated.

Then somewhat terrified.

He whispered “Think he can turn that thing on?”

“Of course.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Isn’t that what you intended?”

“I thought maybe just getting acquainted.”

Her hands stilled only briefly on a burn around his waist “So you thought that you’d present David with a deactivated Geth and the Geth would stay that way?”

“…maybe? Yes?”

“The same David that is more acquainted with Geth language, logic and mechanics than any other sentient creature?”

“… maybe still yes?”

“Cherie, you are absolutely charming and occasionally…”

“Yeah, you don’t have to say it.”

“No, I do not. We either die or we do not.”

“Sorry?” Moya considered getting down and stopping David, but that would undo every last bit of calming intent and rapport he’d attempted to build. She was right. We either die or we do not and as he watched, David’s hands shifted in complicated adjustments, the unfamiliar whine of Geth mechanics booting and warming up filling the air.

Karin calmly raised her head to watch.

The Geth sat up slowly, David’s face showing excitement.

Moya said quietly “He definitely takes after you.”

David turned to look at her and she smiled at him, he smiled back.

Moya said just as quietly “Maybe I should give him the ship.”

She said “Perhaps you just did.”

“He likes you. You’re safe.”

David chittered something and the Geth responded. Moya thought maybe they were going to die but this was… so cool… and his hand moved to grasp Karin’s, who held on.

The Geth’s head turned to look at Moya, then back to David, then back to Moya. It said “Shepard Commander.”

Moya smiled and squeezed her hand, said “See? Told you. Knew my name.”

“I did not doubt you.”

The Geth said “He says his name is David Chakwas and that I am not to harm anyone.”

Moya grinned and said “Well, he’s in charge.”


	7. Chapter 7

He hadn’t gotten out of the habit of looking at her, not at all. 

Though the word Amsterdam was not spoken out loud, sometimes he’d smile while eating in the mess, able to see her through the glass.

They were getting closer and closer to something he’d repeatedly called a Suicide Mission and he felt the weight of it. It was heavy, but he couldn’t put it down and he couldn’t put her down. He wondered how much it weighed on her. Karin had been quiet lately. She had always been quiet by nature but now she was the closest he’d seen her come to distracted.

He was apprehensive about how much he could reassure her about whatever was on her mind. Trial conversations in his head went like:

“Hey, Karin, I know we’re on this suicide mission thing, but really, it’s not all that bad, it’ll be a breeze.”

Cue adorable Karin smile that meant she thought he was charming and not that bright. She’d end up reassuring him that of course that was true like distracting a small child with something shiny.

Okay, so she was shiny and he got distracted, it still wasn’t fair to do that.

Well, really, if he were that bright, would he have jumped off the Cerberus slab and said “Let’s go suicide!”

Maybe added onto the burden of “Suicide Mission” was the burden of being married to someone that was taking her son on one.

He thought briefly about leaving them somewhere safe… again.

Where was safe?

He didn’t think he could get her off this ship without kidnapping and drugs. He went over it and over it, trying to find a way. There wasn’t one. He needed her with him to maintain whatever sanity he could claim. She would be vulnerable to attack anywhere he left her drugged. She would never agree to being useless and safe. He couldn’t do that himself. He couldn’t ask her to do it. David would not, could not be abandoned anywhere alone without them. They were a family. None of them were cowards and all of them needed to be together. No abandoning, no drugging, no separation. It was selfish and brave and the solution wasn’t ideal, but it could be much worse.

It could also be much better.

If she’d had a better idea, she’d have said so. Quiet didn’t mean clueless. If she said she should stay on the Citadel with David, they’d do that. She hadn’t.

But he did wonder what it was she wasn’t saying.

He waited after dinner until his Empress finished up her mysterious rites in her spotless Med Bay with no patients. She listened serenely as he yammered about his day. Then he let the silence grow as she looked at him expectantly, with her gentle smile and acceptance of everything from Jack’s puncturing of some conduits that apparently carried oxygen that they needed if they wanted to keep breathing and Grunt wanting to test the integrity of the shuttle bay doors by battering at them. There was some point of contention about Zaeed telling him that was how it was done…

Fortunately EDI was on top of things or they’d be… well… dead. Or at least Jack, Grunt and Zaeed would be. He’d have to kill them himself to keep the peace, or at least keep the oxygen and pressure equilibrium.

Not being all that stealthy and being the Soldier that he was, no tricks other than a weird sense of humor and being especially handsome, he asked her “What is it that you aren’t telling me?”

He wanted to know and he didn’t want to know.

It couldn’t be bad, not with that smile. 

Or maybe it was really bad and she needed her best smile.

Please be that first thing.

She said “I’m pregnant.”

!

No, really, that’s all his brain had. His knees were weak so he went with it, dropped to them and hugged her around the waist. With his ear against her stomach he said “Right here? The kind of baby that goes right here? Why wouldn’t you tell me that? That’s the best news I’ve ever heard since you said you consented to being shamed into marrying me.”

Her voice was soft, tentative “The first trimester has risks. It has only been two months and in a woman of advanced maternal age…”

She didn’t want to tell him because there were risks? 

Of course she didn’t want to tell him because there were risks.

Fuck that.

He stood up, once again glad to be taller than she was, holding off on cataloguing his reactions for her by first clarifying “Okay. Risks to you?”

“No.”

“Okay. Fractional mom. It’s risky. I can appreciate you wanting to spare me from the results of those risks, so thank you for that. But don’t do it again because there’s that ‘married to me’ thing. I’m the father of our fractional children. And I want to be there for every step of parenthood. There’s the making part, then the the bearing the risks part and that we do together. Somewhere in there is me dressing them up in funny clothes but that comes later. As for the rest, all I need to know is that the descriptor for you yet again is advanced. You are advanced. So I’ve already stated my wish for sixteen kids. At least. Do you accept the risks for having one to start? Do you want a baby?”

“Very much so.”

“Oh, good, because as far as teamwork goes, I can help with the launch party but can’t do the rest.”

She said in her steady Adamant-worthy voice “I won’t leave the Normandy.”

At that he smiled “You have been in more war zones than I have, taken more risks to care for the wounded than I have taken in making wounded. That is your call.”

“I won’t change my mind.”

“And I won’t change it for you. As consequences for my actions go, baby is the best I have going for me. You’re the best thing I have going for me, Karin.”

And then she cried and he held her, eyes closed, wanting to cry along with her.

A baby.

A baby way smarter than he was, just like his son and his wife.

He couldn’t wait.

He was terrified but that was nothing new. What was new was the hope and the joy that fired up the already-going-on-this-damned-mission trajectory he had going. 

He whispered “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“We are not naming any of our children Grunt.”

He grinned as her shoulders shifted from the shudders of tears to the mixed signals of tears and laughter. 

“Agreed.” He held her and she held him, his knees still weak and the relief and apprehension hitting hard. His fingers trailed through her hair. She said quietly “I don’t wish to tell anyone else.”

At that he rebelled. He understood… but he rebelled. He’d do what she asked, but he couldn’t be expected to not tease her on the subject. “Okay. Just the Citadel.”

“No.”

“Just the Normandy?”

“No.”

“An ad in Westerlund News?”

“No.”

“How am I supposed to contain all this exuberant pride, Karin?”

“I can prescribe a sedative.”

“For you or for me?” More laughter, less crying.

He needed to keep it that way.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO 

Moya sat at his habitual place in the mess. The Med Bay lights were off.

Karin and David had been taken by Collectors. His entire crew taken. EDI unshackled.

He hadn’t been here. Now he was here and they weren’t.

He could sit still, and that’s what he could contribute to his continued command. They were headed through the relay as soon as possible. He hadn’t bothered to get any food or anything to drink, he was going to sit here until it wasn’t time to sit here. 

If he spoke, he’d end up shouting.

If he moved he’d end up hitting something and not stopping.

Karin wouldn’t like that.

He would like that way too much right now.

Garrus had quietly spoken for Moya as they came back on board, got the debriefing from Joker and EDI as Moya stood in self-contained and self-flagellant silence.

He couldn’t go back to their cabin. Garrus didn’t leave his side until Moya broke off at the elevator and sat in the dark mess. Gardner gone. 

Garrus didn’t sit with him, but he didn’t quite make it to the battery either, vigilant and silent Turian loitering. 

Within a few minutes Thane moved through the mess, by the sound of it making a cup of tea. Moya was barely aware of his presence until Thane put a cup down in front of Moya and sat at his side, sipping at his calmly. Several minutes passed where Moya realized he could not form the words ‘thank you’ but could concentrate on steady hands to take a sip. Thane did not speak.

Moya thought of Garrus, who had lost his squad and half his face in one day. No chance of getting them back. Moya thought of Thane, who had lost his wife to torture and his son to distance and grief. No chance of getting his wife back, his son alienated. Grunt and Jack with no family and no hope of finding any. Zaeed with his betrayal and scars…

Going through the roster, every member of this ship…

And they all found reasons to silently move through the mess, keep watch over him through the hours he could not speak to them, for them or with them. The hours he spent trying to not make things worse.

When it was time to go, Thane still at his side, Garrus put his hand on Moya’s shoulder. Grey eyes met understanding and lethal blue. Thane rose and straightened his leathers, retrieved the mugs and cleaned them, returned them to the cabinet.

Quietly they all made it to the briefing. Who called it he had no idea, probably Garrus. Time to go. The team had reviewed the mission parameters and split themselves into teams, Miranda leading the second team, Legion into the ducts.

Garrus and Thane with Moya. He had no objections and an overspill of gratitude and relishing the ability to unleash all the rage he’d kept from his ship, from his crew.

On the way out, grins and elbows nudged in still silence, there was a handwritten sign… scribbled out in red angry lines and painstakingly reiterated where necessary in such depth that the paper was torn around some words:

“THIZ WAY TO KARIN AN DAVID COMANDUR CHAKWUZ”

There were signs all the way to the shuttle, every few feet.

Grunt looked particularly guilty and proud.

Now he didn’t need to speak because he might in fact cry.

Now. Now he could shout and hit things.


	8. Chapter 8

After holding back his rage and despair, the mission let Moya reverse poles, released that energy outward toward the Things that took her. They were shaped like people, but the Collectors were Things… and they died. Lots of them. Quickly. Not enough of them and not quickly enough for Moya. 

The Collectors ended here and now. 

He avoided saying the phrase ‘now it’s personal’ in his head or out loud because it reminded him too much of cheesy voice overs and didn’t suit his air of brutal purpose, but it was true.

Shepard would have gotten it done, but taking Karin and David ensured that Moya was fully invested and that the word ‘suicide’ in terms of this mission only applied to the Things that briefly shot at him before he or a member of his team took them down. He wasn’t tired. Adrenaline and rage eliminated that possibility. Time had the strange quality of dilation during focus. The moment he was in was the only moment that existed, and it stretched out so he was able to do everything he needed to do. Once that moment was gone, it seemed to disappear and form no memory. Then he was on to the next, a vicious spread and spray of blood.

He'd never been that invested in art, but he found a new appreciation for a new form: Jackson Pollock’s style if every paint color had been the color of Collector blood.

From the looks of his team and their results, they were all artists, with no critics among them.

Time dilation included forgetting the color of Collector blood and thinking of Karin for supercharged seconds that propelled time and death forward.

Time stopped when he saw her in a pod. He felt the compressed sense of separation, the fear that he could see her die in the next few seconds if some Collector hit a button and turned her into liquid before he could get to her. He couldn’t shoot the pod, he couldn’t hit it, he rushed forward, fingers shaking on the controls. Those seconds were filled with the reason why he couldn’t sleep when she was gone, the concept of empty bed, empty heart, her and their child needing him to get to them. The seconds filled with what he imagined she had felt in her empty bed after he’d died.

Then he thought “She’s four times tougher than you. No, five.” in an attempt to mitigate her helplessness, to get his fingers to stop shaking. He didn’t really manage that, but fortunately Drell and Turian hands moved to shift the loosening shield with him as he lunged and then the empty spaces and time were filled with her. Just her. Harsh breath and his eyes clenched tight, he felt the light-headed impossibility of ever letting her go, but suddenly remembered – David.

Twisting his head he saw Jack and Tali helping David from another pod, vague humiliation at not being able to think of the other people being released, barely remembering they existed until his eyes fell on them and he made space for them in this newly flooded reality.

Triumph, humiliation, failure, the inability to think of anything except the woman in his arms, and then Garrus moving to set up a perimeter.

He couldn’t kiss her. He didn’t deserve her. He’d let her be taken. He’d kept her on the ship.

Regardless of wisdom or choices, the responsibility stopped at him.

Cool hands slid up from his waist, along his shoulders and then to his face, and she kissed him.

Jack said “Awwww” between swears and the sounds of shockwave, weapon discharges and heat sinks hitting the ground.

He opened his eyes to Adamant green, felt his spine begin to fill with strength at the sight. Felt that he should up the number to ten times tougher than he was.

All the sorry spilled into his eyes, almost babbled through his lips, but she put a finger on his lips and then drew one of his hands to her abdomen and said in her river voice “Thank you, Cherie. We’re fine. We’re all fine.”

“How is it that you can look like you’re standing in your own Med Bay?”

“I’m standing in your arms.”

“Karin, I – ” 

She could tell, she just could, that he was not reassured, that he never would be. There was triage in her eyes, not second nature but First Nature to her. He was being assessed.

Karin put her hand out to welcome David into the circle of her arms and then David spontaneously put his arms around Moya and the impact of those gestures imploded inside him, taking out all defenses and leaving nothing but the will to hold these three tight and not let go.

Karin whispered “We have to get back to the ship. You have to make sure this never happens again to anyone else.”

She sounded so sure, so right.

99.9% of what he wanted to do right now involved wanting to tell her that absolutely no way would that happen, that they were leaving together and he was packing them into bubble wrap and suspending them in antigrav storage for their own damned good, especially his good because he could not go through this again ever – 

And then he realized… this is how she felt every time he left the ship, every time she’d thought of him for years, the loss and the desire to have done it differently.

Twenty times tougher than you, Cherimoya.

He whispered in a choked, rough voice “Are you giving me an order?”

She smiled and the imploded shockwave of cold turned to warm and reversed itself. “I certainly am.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And then it was done. Because she said so. He had to go forward and they would go back. He’d gotten her back, and that’s what mattered. Now the rest would happen because she said so. He kissed her on the top of the head, his hand still on her stomach with a caress, then kissed the top of David’s head. David turned to look up at Karin, who gave him the same smile that meant everyone was moving forward, getting out, thinking of what was best for others.

Because she said so.

Mordin took the crew back to the ship, and Moya had a bunch more work to do today before he was through, and he was certain his Adamant Empress, even if she was terrified, in pain and pregnant, was going to be fixing everyone else on the way back to the ship and once they got there and would not accept any help or make it seem like she needed any until everyone else was helped.

He was going to be there to help her heal and nothing would stop him.

There were shockwaves and heat sinks and him watching Karin’s back until he heard Grunt shout “She’s ALIVE, Battlemaster, she’ll be fine. We won’t unless you – “

Moya grinned and it was part blood and part Command, she’d taken his heart with her. He had to get back to the fight until it was over. “Pipe down, Grunt.” Moya joyously broke a Collector neck.

“Pipe down? What the…” Grunt answered, puzzled.

Stupid translators.

Jack yelled helpfully “It means shut the fuck up.”

Moya finished “And kill something.”

He heard Grunt’s slow laugh before the roaring in his ears from the combination of relief and bloodlust caused time to slow again into art appreciation without distraction.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

They killed something. They killed everything. The base was detonated and his fellow art enthusiasts with various limps, winces and manic grins made it back onto the ship.

Everyone had taken a beating, his ship, his wife, son and his crew, but there were no fatalities except among the Collectors, base detonated and The Illusive Man ignored entirely.

There wasn’t enough fuck off in the galaxy for that man, so silence would do.

Felt good.

It all felt good except where he was probably going to bleed to death from internal crush injuries.

All those antigrav platforms and still literally tons of falling debris?

Stupid Collectors.

He knew he had to do his job but now that he was back on board he could cheat. “EDI? Karin’s still alive, right?”

“Yes.”

“So glad. Prioritize. Damage report.”

He tried to comprehend but the time dilation thing seemed to be failing him. His right knee started to tremble and gave out.

Turian and Drell arms were there to support him. He growled that he was fine.

Turian laughter. 

Drell deadpan disbelief.

Thane said “I believe your translator is malfunctioning. Loss of that much blood is not ‘fine.’”

Moya swore and swatted at them because he needed to get his job done before he earned Karin back and they weren’t stopping him.

Garrus got an arm under Moya’s armpits, holding him up before he fell over. Thane had his arms braced behind his back so he wouldn’t swing any more.

Okay. Maybe he was thoroughly messed up but that didn’t mean he had to admit it. Garrus hefted him up and said “Off your feet, Commander.”

Moya answered “Traitors. Working for the Collectors.”

Garrus said “Doubt that last check’s gonna clear.”

Thane said “They cannot afford me.”

Moya said “Ow. Shoulder’s dislocated. At least. I promise I won’t hit you.”

Garrus laughed “Like I’m falling for that. Good news, we’re headed to the Med Bay.”

Moya said “Take me to my quarters. Shower and I’ll be fine. Can’t see Karin like this.”

Garrus shook his head “You’re standing next to me and a very pretty Drell. You’re going to look like crap no matter what.”

Moya considered and then said “Don’t carry me.”

Garrus said “SO tempting.”

Moya bargained slightly “Don’t let my ship… explode.”

Garrus nodded solemnly “On it.”

Moya then began to hope he’d make it so he could see her before he died. “Might have to carry me.”

Thane’s restraining hands loosened on his as he said “Your entrance may be less than hero – ”

Collectors suck.

He passed out.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

He woke to holding her hand and seeing lovely green eyes with her half-doctor/half-lover smile. He decided it was Heaven. He asked “Did I die? Did you die? Is this heaven? Is there ice cream?”

She grinned and kissed his forehead, said “Despite you jettisoning much of your blood, I managed to get a bit of it back into you.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Three days.”

“Were you worried?”

“No.”

“Liar.” He smiled. More lover crept into her smile. He said “I have something to tell you. I thought I might, you know, die, and be able to miss this conversation. If I’m not dead and this isn’t heaven, then I would like to cordially ask you to accompany me to Earth.”

“What is on Earth?”

“My incarceration. Remember that other time when I came back on board injured after being gone for a few days?”

“That time when I was… quite… worried?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“That time where you nearly became indoctrinated and likely escaped it because you are too stubborn for Reapers to redirect your mind in any fashion?”

“Yes. Then.”

“What about it?”

“Funny story.”

“I doubt it.”

“You’re too smart for me. Okay, not funny story. It’s not really my fault. It’s the Alliance’s fault, but I’m a dutiful scapegoat. Asteroid. Dead Batarians. Lots of them. Me incarcerated.”

“Does that mean that you’ll be forced to stay in one stable place for an extended period of time?”

“YES! See? You’re so smart. I will only agree to being incarcerated if you accompany me. So I don’t injure myself, or, say, murder everyone trying to keep me from you.”

“I approve of less murder.”

“Good! So. Earth?”

“Cherie, I would gladly accompany you to Earth.”

“You won’t be incarcerated.”

“I certainly will not.”

“You’ll just be a conjugal visit.”

“Do not ever say that again.”

He grinned, imagined explaining that to Hackett, began to look forward to it, and leaned forward, until she met him, until her lips moved to full lover and no doctor, and he finally, finally got her to kiss him in her Med Bay.

It was definitely heaven.


	9. Chapter 9

Moya contacted Hackett, thinking that ‘stubborn’ as a word couldn’t tie down a corner of what he was feeling.  Funny how being in love and impending fatherhood made him not care much about his career path at the moment.  He wanted a vacation for Karin.  Call it a honeymoon that didn’t involve her being captured by Collectors.  He didn’t listen to Hackett’s greeting or his serious, droning words.  It didn’t really matter what Hackett had to say.  Moya was only interested in Hackett agreeing to his terms.

“Admiral…”  Moya said that one word with the contempt he was feeling.  Too much.  He backed off slightly on sounding that way but not feeling that way.  Moya wanted to antagonize him but didn’t for Karin’s sake.  Much.  “You sent me into a no-win situation, and I didn’t win.  But I did get the best outcome with what you gave me to work with.  You still want me to pay the entire tab for the Alliance’s chain of bad and ignorant decisions.  I’ll do it.  But let’s set a few things straight.  It was your mission, your lack of planning, your lack of intel that cost those Batarian lives.  I’m sure I’m supposed to care about Batarian lives, and I do, but in the end I’m not dead and they are.  I can still fight and I can still be of use.  They can’t.  Nobody knew what happened there except for you and me and you chose to disclose what happened.  Another choice you made that you want me to back up.  So you took all the authority while I agreed to take all the risks.  So with your authority you’re going to do a few things.  You’re getting me a high-tech palace that will be my prison.  I want this for my pregnant wife and my genius son.  Now, I don’t know what goes into a palace and I really don’t care about the prison part, but you hire some contractors and experts to build me one or find me one.  Surprise me.  Make it good.  It needs to have not only all the convenient and beautiful crap that palaces have like extra bedrooms for visitors and residents, but two labs, one medical and one for a savant who likes to discover things about things.  Do that and I will stay there happily and look all dutifully contrite and responsible for the press.  My wife’s going to give birth and although I assume she can do that with no backup because she’s that amazing, we will also be close to the best medical facility available on Earth while I am not busy shooting things or more importantly to her state of mind, being shot at.  You set conditions and I abided by them.  For me to continue to abide by them, these are my conditions.  That’s going to be the last time I call you Admiral unless you do what I’ve asked.  I’ve gotten used to having things my way.  I like it.  You want me to keep the secret that the Alliance was criminally negligent in the circumstances leading up to the Bahak system?  You keep the secret that your ‘prisoner’ is voluntary and pampering his family.  You need me.  I do not need you, but you can get me this one thing that I want for them.  It’s up to you whether or not I turn my back on the Alliance entirely or if you use this time to lure me back into believing we can work together.  I’m not interested in a lecture, just say yes and I’ll be there in a week.  Say no and no more Admiral, no more scapegoat.  No more Shepard.”

Moya enjoyed Hackett’s - he wasn’t ever going to call him Admiral in his head anymore - jaw grinding and deliberate pause before he said a fatalistic ‘yes.’

Moya beamed at him with just the right note of condescension in his voice and expression to make it fun “That’s great, Admiral Hackett.  Send me the coordinates and do not visit.  I’ll take a shuttle down and pose for whatever pictures you need against a stark white wall with me in an unflattering jumpsuit that will still look good ‘cause I’m the one in it.  I’ll look appropriately miserable.”

He punched the disconnect and smiled.

Good talk.

He wandered to Thane’s cabin, knocked and when the Drell answered said “Worked like a charm.  Worked better than a charm.  Most charms don’t work, I hear.”  Thane gave a slight smile and inclined his head in acknowledgment of well-executed advice.  Moya smiled and said “One more thing.  Need you to go to Earth with us.”  Surprised Drell brow ridges rose.  Accepting that Thane did not talk much, Moya said “It’s for Karin.”  He got skeptical Drell face in response.  “Okay, it’s not for Karin.  But if you don’t go, I’m going to convince Kolyat that his true destiny is hacking and I’ll teach him how.”

“You are perhaps the worst hacker I have ever witnessed, Commander Shepard.”

“Right?!  And that’s the fate that awaits your son.  Unless you go with us to Earth.”

“You are also terrible at threats unless I helped devise them.”

“Yeah, well, I tried.  But you’re going.  I need you.  Fine.  You pushed me to it.  I’m gonna do it.  I’m gonna say please.”

There was a long pause after which Thane said “I am waiting for that threat to fail to work as well.”

“Please, Thane.  Come to Earth with us.”

“As you wish.”

“That’s it?  You’re not going to ask me why?  I’m insulted.”

“It is obvious that you need me for any number of reasons.”

“That’s more insulting, Thane.”

“That is true, Commander Shepard.  Good evening.”

Thane shut the door in his face.

He grinned.  

Good talk.

Admiral business and Drell-needling pleasure dispensed with, he headed to their cabin, finding Karin on the bed with her feet propped up on a stack of pillows.

Pregnancy came with a lot of pain and discomfort and she didn’t complain, but she also didn’t do what he would have done, deny entirely what was going on.  Her ankles were swollen and she preferred rest and elevation to any potential side effects of diuretics.  Whatever a diuretic was.  He had no idea but if she didn’t want to take them, he didn’t want her to take them.  He wasn’t about to second guess her.  There was also a glass of wine on the side table.  Despite all the common knowledge he had picked up medically during his lifetime, turns out lots of it was wrong.  Moderate alcohol consumption had no measurable impact upon fetal development.  Who knew?  Karin knew.  No Serrice Ice Brandy because that couldn’t be described as ‘moderate’ in any way.

He was happy to have her out of her domain and in their bed more often.  He smiled at her and sat at the side of the bed, avoiding her feet but massaging at her calves.  She was ticklish and tender.  There was good ‘ow’ and bad ‘ow’ and again, she didn’t complain but she didn’t deny what was going on with tender feet or tender breasts.  He couldn’t tell if she was fine with lying in bed and reading rather than being in her domain and he didn’t ask.  She’d likely feel compelled to not complain again.

He had to rely upon her to do the right thing because he was mostly clueless except for noticing her small intakes of breath and minor winces.  But his hands on her legs he knew she liked as she smiled at him, welcoming and grateful, with her scooting down the bed to press her legs into his palms and fingers, her hair spread over her pillow, their pillow, in their bed, his bed, her bed.  Everything about those pronouns sounded good, was good.

He focused on her calves as he said “Hackett is going to set us up in a nice place.  You’ll have a lab, David will have a lab.  I’ll be a good boy.”

She interrupted pleasure groans by saying “Mmm.  I will believe it when I see it.”

“Thane’s going.”

Her smile was radiant and he got the inrush of hope he relied upon her to give him.  God, she was beautiful.

“That is good, Cherie.  And Kolyat?”

“Also going.  I told Thane I needed him, and that’s true, but he’ll find out he’s going because he needs you.”

“I believe I can cure Thane’s Kepral’s with Kolyat’s help.”

“Sexiest thing I have ever heard, Karin.  Thank you.”

“I have not done it yet.”

“But you will.  I know you will.”

“They’re uniquely and fortuitously a match in many ways.”

“Here’s me being appreciative of unique and fortuitous matches.”

She relaxed back and smiled “That feels so good, Cherie.”

He smiled and watched her with her head back, her belly a smooth and rising curve.  She was six months along, about to enter the third trimester, with her the keeper of so many mysteries.  There was something he’d waffled about knowing because he had savored the mystery, but right now he wanted to know because it meant he’d know with her and he could savor the answer.  Karin had known the gender of the baby for three months, having performed extensive genetic testing for any problems or issues, finding this out as part of her comprehensive analysis.

Moya hadn’t been sure ‘comprehensive analysis’ was his favorite way of discovering poetry, but now he wanted to know so he asked her “Tell me the baby’s gender.”

“Now you wish to know?”

“Now I wish to know.”

“Why?”

“I just do.  I figure deliberate ignorance might have been relatively romantic, seeing as I really don’t care about the baby’s gender, just that the baby’s healthy, but you know, so I want to know.”

“She is a girl.”

He found himself smiling, as he was sure he would have if the baby had been a boy because… the baby WAS something.  Someone.  One shade of possibility added and simultaneously removed.  He said with a goofy grin “She’s a girl.”

Karin’s eyes opened and she smiled at him as she said “You can help me pick out names now.”

“Mmm... I could have done that before.  In keeping with my family tradition, we should name her after some weird fruit.”

“If she carries it as well as you have, I would approve.”

He’d looked up some fruit for just this occasion, teasing-tender investing his hands and his voice.  He leaned in and kissed a line along her thigh, then to the crowning swell of their now-known female… baby.  The word ‘fetus’ just would not cut it any longer and he wouldn’t hear of it any more.  Baby.  She was their baby.  His hand followed his mouth, up along and under the skimming emerald silk Karin was wearing, caressing along the warm curve of skin that was so often kicking and moving lately under his curious and proud palms.

He hummed against her belly as though considering and said a drawn out Mmmmmm… that led to saying “Mangosteen” - drawing a physical and humor-tickled laugh from Karin, his river and light.

“I must veto that.  The most obvious nickname is ‘Manky’ and that is unacceptable.”

He moved up her body with his smiling mouth, his tongue along green silk with heavier breasts and tender nipples underneath, drawing a gasp and a moan from her before he questioned “Mmm… okay.  Rambutan?”

She giggled “Exotic.  And yet still no.”

He trailed his mouth up her throat, to her laughing lips, his abdomen grazing her belly, their baby, his cock throbbing and riding along the rising curve.  He murmured “You are a tough woman to please” as he relished the irony of her being so easily pleased by his touch it made him giddy and he didn’t care who knew it.  He pretended to think, took her lower lip between his teeth and asked plaintively “Okay, saved the best for last… Durian.”

He sounded so very hopeful and she sounded so very pleased in her ability to say “Absolutely not!” as she laughed harder.

He huffed in dramatic disappointment against her skin and rolled off her in apparent pique, then reached for her, lifted her and set her on his lap with his thighs spread wide to cradle her.  This position meant no weight on her, all her tender and tickled potential open to his hands and eyes, her head falling back against his shoulder and his mouth at her throat.  He murmured “I don’t know why I put up with you, Karin, you never let me do what I want.”

“It’s because you love me, Cherie.  That’s why you put up with me.”

“And you love me back, right?”

“So right.”

“Say it.”

“I love you back.”

His hands roamed over her body, appreciating her deeper swells and warmer skin, his mouth along her throat with a moan reverberating into her skin, which sent a shiver down her spine.  His badly punning mind thought ‘I love you front’ but he didn’t say it, only huffed against her skin again, the silly humor shifting away rapidly as his hands lifted her breasts, his fingers on tight-tender nipples gently.  Her hands moved to free his cock as he groaned.  With her legs positioned around the outside of his, he flexed his thighs and she moved with him, gliding her hand along him and shifting her body, shifting his cock to enter her just barely.  Sweat prickled on his skin, anticipating rocking her with her cradled, his muscles tensed and the stretch of his thighs defining how she could, how she would move.

With him.

He slid one hand along the outer curve of her belly, finding her clit with his fingertips, with her turning her mouth to meet his.  The tip of his cock was slick from him, slick from her, teasing in the limited glide he allowed, feeling helpless and in control at once.  She did that for him every time, opposites in impossible synchronization.  Her mouth was hungry as she moaned against his lips and he wanted to tell her ‘shhhhh’ because he knew he could exhaust her, give her everything she wanted, wanted to reassure her that he would and she did not need to be anxious, but he knew she knew.  He also wanted to feel her moan, hear her moan, wanted it all at once and she gave it to him with her teeth nipping at his lips and him caught between thinking of saying ‘shhhh’ and ‘God, come for me Karin’ as his mouth was too busy kissing her to say either.

He opened his eyes and moved one of her hands with his with them both cupping one of her breasts, her fingers showing him exactly how sensitive she was right now, exactly what she needed, that he was exactly what she needed.

Her hips caught the rhythm of his thighs, pressing deeper with each rocking flex, the tightening clench of her body drawing him in, impossible to resist.  And he didn’t have to.  He was, would be and wanted to be lost in her, and she wanted that as well.

He’d been thinking about names and he knew what he wanted.  She still resisted him calling himself ‘Chakwas’ and he was stuck with Shepard because she wanted it that way so he would do it that way.  But he still did not have to stop teasing her so he didn’t, his fingers and body drawing her into coming for him, the knowledge that he was not an intellectual match for this woman compensated for entirely by his strength and her surrender to it every time he moved with her, for her.  He had no doubts he pleased his Empress, with her now taking him as she wished with the angle of her hips and the drive of her body onto him.

He whispered into her ear, slowing his fingers at an otherwise crucial moment that brought a frustrated almost-growl from her that he adored, her momentum stuttering and her thighs held wider, with her subject to his whims and will.  “We should name her after you.”  She faltered as he had known she would, his anticipatory smile and a kiss pressed against her throat.  She didn’t want to say no but she would.  She would not want to have a child named after her, he knew it.  She drew in an unsteady breath as though to break that unromantic news to her clueless husband, but before she could whisper her dissent he kissed her, dropped her down with a precipitous flexing of his thighs, stroked at her with fingertips as she was given everything he felt, the ‘shhhh’ and the ‘come for me’ and the assurance he would give her what she wanted… eventually… after he teased her about it for a while… and probably some things she didn’t want but he couldn’t resist.

Whatever her opinion was of her own name and sharing it became lost to the drive of them and his insistence on not allowing her to speak until she was arching, her head on his shoulder, his mouth on hers and her hair spilling down his back.

He was nowhere near done with taking her where she wanted to go, but he was done with teasing her, cock seated deep and his teeth along her throat as he told her the name of their daughter, honoring the letter and the spirit of his Empress’s law.

“Grace.”


	10. Chapter 10

Diata Curran sat at a desk.  How could she possibly not be crushed by sitting at this particular desk?  She wasn’t sure, but she’d try.  She’d had her own ship and crew, now she didn’t.  Now she had a desk.  It wasn’t a cell, but it was cell adjacent.  She was now part of the detail tasked with guarding Commander Shepard.

She closed her eyes and sighed at the irony heaped around her.

Well, there was plenty of space around her to hold it, nobody wanted to get close enough to step in it.

The difference between her and Commander Shepard was that he might get out.  She bet she’d be at this desk for a long time.  Cell adjacent.

It was a hell of a cell, a private home with sudden and shiny additions built, some power tools still whirring.  She was one of the theoretically mild-mannered desk jockeys included at the entrances.  She was at the front, in the foyer.  It was definitely a foyer and not a hallway.  Mirrored.  She could catch sight of herself in her Alliance gold-trimmed dress blues.  Her skin did well with the gold but not necessarily the blue.  She had a high forehead, wide and round hazel eyes and ‘slightly more green than olive’ skin that made double takes and squints standard.  Brown hair in a neat and even bun.  Regulation.  She looked away and down, finding the desk safer to consider.  Her desk was mighty nice.  No doubt.  Matched the shine of the place.

Whoever put her here, she applauded their ability to consign her to metaphoric hell.  Complete with voluntary attempted tormentors.  Coombs, who was bitter at being at his own desk saying “Too bad Shepard’s in love with his wife, Curran.  You can’t fuck your way out of this one.  Who knows though, you’re really good at getting fucked.”

He wasn’t wrong about the getting fucked.  She couldn’t be angry at Coombs, whose IQ could only rise to 69 metaphorically.  He was crude and couldn’t do anything else.  She felt sorry for him.  She’d keep to her desk.  Maybe name it.  The SSV Dead End.  Maybe she was picked because she looked pretty sitting here.  Coombs was good looking too.  No eyesores here.  No doubt whoever sat here after her would also look good and be able to make the dutiful and entirely unnecessary checkmark required in case someone entered or exited.  They didn’t really need personnel here, the only meaningful biometrics and surveillance were electronic.  When it was someone else’s turn at the desk she and her irony could try to get some sleep.  Which was about as likely as fucking Commander Shepard. Or Coombs.  She allowed herself a brief fantasy of leaving the Alliance, finding some corner on some world where she could sit at a desk that wasn’t inherently poisoned, but she couldn’t really sustain that thought and she didn’t think that place really existed.  Coombs was bad, but he couldn’t really help being who he was.  She couldn’t even really say she didn’t belong in metaphoric sleek hell.  But there were still Reapers and Collectors and eventually she’d be off this desk one way or the other.

One good Reaper invasion and this was all over.

Something to look forward to.

She focused on maintaining her pacific expression and not fidgeting physically or existentially.

She’d had a briefing on authorized visitors and the theoretically incarcerated.  Commander Shepard.  She knew him on sight, who didn’t?  Karin Chakwas, his wife.  Dr. Chakwas owned a list of medical degrees and accomplishments that made Diata jealous.  She imagined an alternate life path, not military but scientific, with the opportunities this woman had forged for herself…

Okay, she had enough to wallow in, no need to pile it on.  She was losing all the superiority she’d gained from comparing herself to Coombs.  That was a shame because it had been keeping her going.

They had a son, autistic, adopted, David Archer.

Two Drell guests, father and son.  Everyone other than Commander Shepard had the right to come and go without being stopped and she wondered what exactly the protocol would be for the moment when Commander Shepard wanted to leave with them and she was faced with five people that outranked her mentally, physically and socially, whose combined military experience and Normandy-adjacent lives made the SSV Dead End potentially veer more toward being named SSV Darwin Award.

Not that her genetics were something Darwin had imagined.

It was NOT going to be the SSV Self Pity.  She was alive.  She had a desk.  She was not incarcerated.  She was not indoctrinated.

Those were her patches of ground that she would defend.  If her main fight right now was with boredom and irrelevance, she could bear up under that in a temperature controlled environment.

The power tools stopped creating productive noise pollution and it wasn’t long before a shuttle landed with people that could mock her relevance in comparison if she let that happen. She tried to gain some perspective.  Commander Shepard had been dead once.  He hadn’t even had a desk at the time.

They filed in, not one by one but Shepard, Chakwas and Archer, then Thane and Kolyat Krios.

Having expected to be the most impressed with Commander Shepard, she was disturbed to discover that through the laughter and general sense of homecoming and family despite the fact that this was prison… Thane Krios moved in a way that made her grateful there was a desk and distance between them as her scalp tightened and skull seemed to reverberate as though someone had used her spine as a bellpull.

She smiled.  She did not think they saw her and she hoped it stayed that way.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It did not stay that way.  A few days passed with them and their belongings coming and going.  She was getting used to not being seen, it was in fact a relief.

Dr. Chakwas emerged from the pralace.  Prison palace was too long and awkward and although she had plenty of time for four syllables, she also had time for whimsy that was just that little bit bitter.  Dr. Chakwas approached Diata with a smile “Hello.  I’m certain you know my name, but what is yours?”

“Diata Curran, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Karin.”

“No, ma’am.”

Dr. Chakwas continued with a smile “I hate to impose upon your good will, but unfortunately I am under lifting restrictions and my project unfortunately requires lifting.  Would you please?”

Dr. Chakwas had at least three able-bodied men inside the compound that could all lift for her.  Maybe she wasn’t on such good terms with her husband as rumored.  Diata knew a few things about heeding rumor.  “Of course, ma’am.  What can I help with?”

Dr. Chakwas led her back to a lab that did in fact make her viciously jealous, though she didn’t show it.  She was directed to repositioning some very specific and elegant machinery she’d love to play with.  Two gene sequencers and synthesizers that were probably worth more than the rest of the compound.  She’d love to know what Dr. Chakwas was doing, but she did not ask.  David sat in a corner of the space out of the way of any bustle.  He was reciting prime numbers in a calm and droning tone and she was enjoying calculating the next one.  She didn’t exactly bang down a piece of gear but there was a stuttering brush of placement on the metal and David’s delivery of the expected number was delayed, Diata saying “102,564” as though to pick up the rhythm and apologize.

Dr. Chakwas looked to David, looked to her and Diata looked up, startled out of her admiration for beautiful scientific equipment and beautiful mathematical thoughts.  David lifted his head and smiled at Diata, but she felt she’d overstepped all bounds.  “I’m sorry, ma’am.  I did not mean to interrupt him, I was distracted by… this is an extraordinary lab.”

“Diata, being distracted by properly placing and running this equipment through diagnostics and determining the next in a sequence of a six-digit prime number is not something about which to apologize.”

Diata thought ‘News to me.  My jealousy’s showing and nobody likes a smart ass.’ but said “That’s very kind.”  David was still looking at her and she smiled back at him.  He resumed his prime number recitation and she kept her mouth shut.

Dr. Chakwas was attempting to cure Kepral’s Syndrome.  After that had been explained, Diata looked at her, this woman with the opportunity and the means, with this tempting space, her charmed life.  Warning bells screamed in the back of her head, on her forehead, in her scalp as she waited and and was terrified and elated at hearing what she heard:  “Diata, is it possible that you could learn the function of this equipment, study Kepral’s and the specifics of the project and aid me in formulating palliative measures and potentially a cure?”

And there it was, relevance and compromise.  She’d do just about anything to get into this lab when she should be at her desk, defending that one honorable patch of ground, going down with her four-legged ship.

David said ‘105683’ calmly into her strained silence and she found herself saying “Yes, ma’am” in rhythm shortly after.

She was so very fucked.  She was so very happy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thane Krios continued to make her definitively nervous in a physiological way that set her teeth grinding as she resisted the urge to step away.  She managed to keep her distance entirely until one day when they were the only ones in the lab, with her under orders to take his blood.  He was patiently waiting.  She knew Drell had venom and she was always good with medical precautions anyway, hoping not to insult him by not touching him at all, but determined to not begin hallucinating on the job.  Gloves on.  She did consider this work to be her job now, time at the desk short.  She never entered uninvited, but Dr. Chakwas had set a work schedule and so far lightning had not in fact struck her by abiding by it.

She felt she was now addressing the lightning, who stated mildly “Dr. Chakwas has grown quite fond of you.”

“I have benefited greatly from that, sir.”

“Please, call me Thane.”

“No, sir.”

Just as Dr. Chakwas had ignored her rudeness in refusing to use first names, he did the same.  This did not set her at ease at all, intensifying the sense of trap.  People did not reward rudeness as a rule. “My thanks for your efforts on the cure.”

“You are welcome, sir.”

“I admit to some curiosity regarding you, Ms. Curran.”

She ground her teeth fractionally but distinctly did not answer and did not invite him to call her Diata.  She took blood and skin samples.  He waited patiently.  She looked at him, ground her teeth for more than a fraction of a second and then took a sample of her own blood, ran it through the sequencer and handed him the printout.

He did not look at it, set it aside, saying “Although I appreciate the disclosure, that is not the subject of my curiosity.”

“That would make you unique.”

“Perhaps not.  Having access to this machinery and your DNA, I have already run such a scan.”

She snorted “Of course you have.  What’s left to know or to want to know?”

“Your body is the result of genetic experimentation.  What is left to know is whether or not your mind is the same.”

“Of course it’s the same.”  She imagined him calling her Berv, her most common nickname, coined from BPV, the designation for Batarian Public Vessel.

“Ms. Curran, you are part Batarian, part human and part Asari.  Although your rescue from the medical facility as a child is documented, that documentation has been tampered with.”

She grinned.  Damned right it had been.

His smile was not condemning “The information I was able to discover about you is two dimensional, unlike you as a person.  As you have made it impossible for me to learn certain things about you by researching your past, which you have tailored to what you wish to be known, I must ask you.”

She was angry as hell, wondering if this was the last time she’d be in this room.  She loved it here.  Tangential association with relevance was about to be yanked from her one more time and hadn’t she known that was how it would work out anyway?  She swallowed hard and nodded.  “Please tell Dr. Chakwas that I enjoyed working with her and I wish her luck on her project.”  None of her answers would result in being allowed to stay here, she knew.

“Ms. Curran, you misunderstand.  I do wish to ask you some questions but I do not believe it will result in your expulsion from this lab.  I do not believe Dr. Chakwas would allow it.  She needs you.  If I may…”

He stood and near-tears prickled in the corners of her eyes, his hand reaching out with her too conflicted to move, the gravity from the shadows of prior humiliations sticking her feet to the ground.  He lifted the wig off her head with her scalp wriggling in distress and alarm.  She had the human signals of alert on the back of her neck, Asari proto-tentacles that had been surgically buried under thick Batarian skin that had its own danger signals on the surface including some color change.  Even the places where two more eyes might have once been, who knew, her genetics and surgical history were monstrous and cross-patched too many ways to analyze were swimming with atavistic signals from cultures and histories from which she was severed.  Her jaw set to stoic endurance of the inevitable.

He looked at her without it and his expression was unreadable as he turned and dropped the wig into a sealed bin intended for incineration of sharps and biological waste.  He sat down to face her again and said “That is better.  If you wish another wig I can provide one that fits, one that suits your coloring and face shape.”

“It was issued to me, sir.  I’m certain I’ll be issued another as soon as someone sees me like this.”

“Unlikely, not if Dr. Chakwas objects to its presence in a clean lab.”

“Aren’t you going to make sure I don’t step into this lab again considering I’m so inherently unclean?”

“No.  Had I wished to remove you, you would have been removed.”

“Sir, I’m a monster.  Humans are afraid of me.  Batarians think I’m the definition of ‘sullied’ and Asari have finally found something worse than a pureblood.”

“Then that is their loss.  You happen to be a brilliant monster.”

“Which from my understanding is part of the problem.”

“Not in my case.  Not in Dr. Chakwas’s case.  I have gathered what I could regarding your last mission, why your career ended at that desk, and again I find I must ask you as those files as well have been altered.”

“And if I lie?”

“I believe you have too much courage and pride to lie.”

“And if the truth isn’t good enough?”

“Then you must strive to be.”

“And if my Batarian side decides that Commander Shepard needs to die because he wiped out Bahak?”

“Then in my assessment he would already be dead.”

He wasn’t wrong.  She looked down at the tile, unaccustomed freedom of light and air on her scalp, figuring the truth could not possibly make things worse than they already were and that he was right at least about the ‘pride’ part even if she wasn’t too sure what she was feeling was courage so much as desperation.  “Throughout my career, throughout my life, humans have accused me of being too smart, too perceptive, and they’re afraid my Asari heritage makes me psychic.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.  Not as much as Asari, but more than humans.”

“Then that is a reasonable fear.”

“Damned right it is.  They’re also afraid my Batarian heritage makes me warlike.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.”

“Effectively so from review of your records.”

“Yeah, I’m good at killing people and beating them up in exhibition.  This did not in fact help me make friends.”

“So you are beautiful, intelligent, possess skills others cannot hope to attain or compete with, and you are unpredictable and effectively violent when necessary.  I can see how that has been a burden.”

Oddly enough that was not spoken in any voice of condemnation but in irony.  Considering she was speaking to a Drell whose movements made her want to back away and set her scalp to alarm, she did not accuse him of sarcasm.  “I’m not politically adept.  Despite excelling in class and testing, people are not my strong suit and I’m definitely not someone that humans are drawn to, except maybe sexually.  So if I didn’t sleep with someone, I was a bitch.  If I did, I’m sleeping my way to the top.  Except I really only made it to the middle.  Nobody trusted me enough to put me in charge of anything resembling the Normandy or even a slot on a ship like that.  I ended up in the supply chain.  They can’t actually say I can pass a psych eval because I don’t match the profile for any of the three races I represent.  They also don’t know what was done to me before I was rescued or if I’m really a spy somehow.  They mostly know they don’t understand me, can’t understand me, and can’t risk me being in charge of anything when there are others that are much more easily understood.  So I get a supply ship, the SSV Hempstead.  We’re on a run to resupply an outpost, a yearly medical eval in Terminus for colonies that contract with the Alliance for the service.  With Collectors and Reapers this is a high stress and high risk job now and the Alliance has turtled up on their support.  They know their contracts aren’t all that legally binding and the middle-man contractors are profiteering scum who would rather take a final payment when they define it as ‘final,’ betting on a colony dying out so nobody is left alive to complain.  So we’re missing some confirmation pings and codes from the Shangri-La outpost.  I’m ordered to skip it.  Now, I know Shangri-La can’t survive having anything skipped.  There are kids there, they need vaccinations yearly or there’s this fever that… it’s high risk.  I get that.  I got that.  I go.  I tell my crew they shouldn’t, that I’ll make contact.  And I do.  And the place is indoctrinated.  Not just indoctrinated, but wiped out from fever because they missed the last scheduled vaccination health check.  I don’t want my crew to go up for mutiny charges, I order them to stay behind.  I head down.  I end up killing the rest of the indoctrinated and fevered individuals that are left out of the colony that was nearly 6,000 strong two years ago.  Took me a while to find them.  But when there are no more life signs I call back my crew, turn myself in, turn the vessel over to my second and once again nobody has any idea what to do with me except to not put me in charge.  So desk.”

“There were accusations of sexual misconduct with your superior officer as well as throughout your career.”

“That’s just par for my course really.  My superior officer in this last incident is a lovely man who is about 110 and gay and privately supported my actions though he’s not going to risk his career by saying so.  That doesn’t stop anybody from taking a look at me and deciding that’s why I’m not in the brig.”

“Ms. Curran, I believe you.  I face a dilemma, considering you can subvert my care and kill me easily.  I believe you do not even need to do that, that you could in fact kill me easily.  Not something I am accustomed to encountering.  We find ourselves in difficult circumstances.  I wish to protect Karin Chakwas and Commander Shepard.  It would be difficult to look at you and not imagine you would potentially pose a risk for seduction of either Karin or Shepard and that is why I ask.  I will not place them at risk.  In this case you would in fact fail, but you could make their time here unpleasant and I wish to avoid that as well.  My life does not matter particularly except that my son wishes for me to retain it and I find it difficult to tell Karin Chakwas ‘no’ for many reasons.  I am in fact a monster, not one of genetics but of upbringing.  There is no reason why the Commander and the doctor should consider me family, but they do.  And they are mine.  I believe you are here in this lab in good faith.  I also believe that Commander Shepard will reach a day when he is no longer voluntarily under house arrest in the same way that you reached a day when you would no longer take that particular order from the Alliance.  I can offer you a well paid position as the clearly superior hacker you are.  I do not trust the Alliance in general and then there is the added concern of indoctrination in its ranks.  It could be arranged that you become ill or that some complaint regarding your monstrous pedigree from your high-profile guests removes you from your duty here.”

“Forgive me, sir, but when a terrifying Drell tells me that he can make sure I get sick and wake up with a new secret identity, I assume that new secret identity will reside inside the equivalent of a pine casket.”

“Yes, trust is spare.  I do wish to inform you that I admire your integrity and how you have navigated your life.  You are intelligent enough to know that due to your disgrace and isolation, you would make a perfect scapegoat should anything go wrong with Commander Shepard’s time here.  Whoever put you at that desk either envisioned that outcome or works for someone who has.  You are either complicit or ignorant.  If you are complicit I can warn you that you are being watched and seduction or subversion will be opposed.  If you are helpless, so am I to stop what is going to happen except to watch and to urge you to do the same and perhaps help me in determining the threat level and direction.”

“I’d figured out the scapegoat part before I’d gotten to the end of my assignment brief.  I’m not complicit, but I am helpless.”

“I would like to prevent a negative outcome except for those who planned it.”

“I don’t see how you can.”

“I cannot alone.  I need your help.  I believe Dr. Chakwas can help.  I believe once Commander Shepard takes an interest, he can help.”

“I’m hoping he won’t take any interest.  In every scenario it’s best that I don’t have any access to him at any time.”

“I disagree.  He will take an interest, Ms. Curran.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I will make sure he does, just as I suggested to Karin Chakwas that she ask you into her lab.”

She closed her eyes over a sigh.  “Fuck you, sir.”


	11. Chapter 11

Diata went from being politically helpless - a situation that was pretty much normal for her - to being offered some power and feeling personally and professionally quietly horrified. Once again, she was being offered the wrong sort of power. That seemed to be all she was ever offered. She was smart enough to know that taking power was the surest way of obtaining it and retaining it, but she had refused to do that. She had rejected the irony of self-fulfilling prophecy, of being labeled a monster and therefore becoming one. She had instead set about trying to earn respect, only to discover the system of obtaining respect required some sense of ‘likeness’ with others. Which she lacked. The Alliance had rescued her from a Batarian black-ops lab as a child and therefore she had identified them as the good guys. As the sense of ‘good’ peeled off in crazing patches, the flat out ‘evil’ of Reapers had arisen along the way and although she knew the Alliance was limited by being ironically ‘only human’ in ways she wasn’t, they were still ‘guys’ even if they weren’t particularly good. In the big picture, regardless of whether or not she was a monster relatively, Reapers were monsters absolutely and she could hold onto that without doubt or equivocation.

Exposure to Karin Chakwas was like being pulled out of the freezer and left to thaw on a countertop with the inevitable sense of being roasted for someone’s dinner. Her options as she heard the knives sharpening and felt that the warmth she was experiencing could be the oven heating up were to pre-emptively report on Shepard to someone who did have power or side with Shepard and aid him in whatever he was after. Her passive assistance in the lab wouldn’t last, she knew. She had to pick a side and she was too stubborn to side with only herself or to be that monster. So she waited. Right now she was going through the painful and helpless sense of warmth spreading through her despite her wanting to stay cold. She was feeling more vulnerable than she had since she had been an idealistic and dream-prone child of pure potential composed of unique destiny and gifts, imagining being an Alliance hero. Here were true Alliance heroes. One of them under arrest for ‘murdering’ Batarians, which was frankly bullshit. Shepard had made a tough call at high risk resulting in the loss of Batarian lives but otherwise saving all the other lives that would have been overrun by Reapers. So Diata was now experiencing a resurgence of vulnerability she’d managed to avoid since the first few episodes of hard reality had struck after entering service. She considered she had been tempered and hardened and now she was melting. She wondered if freezing had done enough cellular damage metaphorically that what was left was soggy mush that could not hold any shape.

She hadn’t been given any directives about the front desk except to sit there, weird enough on its own. No military hardware, no orders to shoot or even restrain Commander Shepard. No weapons allowed. Now she was in the lab working on Kepral’s, something that did qualify as heroic.

Nobody had reissued a ‘regulation’ wig. Nobody had asked her to spy on Shepard or Chakwas.

All suspicious. That likely meant that Shepard and Chakwas were already sufficiently monitored, and that the Alliance was waiting, just as they had after Saren, until they knew releasing Commander Shepard was no longer a political liability.

Meaning everyone knew that Reapers were what would get him out of this high-class jail. Including Shepard. That’s likely why he’d agreed to it in the first place.

Except that it was still extraordinarily dangerous. Considering her luck and Shepard’s luck, she did not want to be on the wrong side of that. But she was.

Close association with Thane Krios and Karin Chakwas assured Diata that ‘extraordinarily dangerous’ with access to a decent takeout menu was overall a good, if precarious deal for the current inhabitants.

Except there was David. And a baby. Diata was terrified that this setup made Karin Chakwas and Commander Shepard’s children easy targets. Diata supposed ‘easy’ was relative. They’d spent their lives on a pirate ship, David had been a horrific experiment and Karin had been abducted by Collectors and Shepard had rescued them both and…

Yeah. Diata was out of her depth here. She put her head down and stuck to the science, thawed out and tried to keep her spine from collapsing under the weight of warm, wary and weird.

Then came Skyllian 5. Ironically exactly where she wanted to be and exactly what she wanted to avoid. She barely remembered how she got there, mostly having mumbled “Yes, ma’am” to Karin Chakwas for weeks, she mumbled her last assent for the day, and then realized what she’d agreed to do.

Deliver certain results to Karin out in the living space Diata avoided.

Head down still, she unobtrusively tried to hand the printout to Dr. Chakwas, who was sitting at a huge round table with Commander Shepard, David and Thane Krios, all playing cards. She gritted her teeth, assuming this was her next reluctant audition, as she could have delivered this data directly to Dr. Chakwas’s Omni Tool. Placing the readout unobtrusively at Dr. Chakwas’s side, she was not at all shocked when Karin’s hand closed gently on her wrist. “Ms. Curran, please join us.”

“I’m sure I could not, ma’am.”

The metaphoric elephant in the room rose from his seat and reached a hand out to her. Commander Shepard said with dramatic exasperation “Please, I insist. If I’m going to be mutilated at cards, I need more witnesses.”

He was tall and handsome, and she eyed his hand like a snake, most people avoided touching her. For good reason. She was part Asari and the fear that she was partially psychic wasn’t untrue. She couldn’t in fact read minds that easily, but she did get impressions quickly. Touching Karin Chakwas had induced that warm sense of defrosting calm. Thane Krios touching her had induced a sense of fear that made her spine want to curl up into something resembling a combination of fetal position and hypothermia.

So she assumed she’d go all out and be offensive. “Most people choose not to shake hands with me.”

He shrugged “Are you going to steal my soul? Too late. Karin has it.”

Dr. Chakwas laughed. Diata smiled despite herself and extended a hand. Not fear. Not warmth. Something solidly grey like his eyes. Something solid and veiled. Above all, something solid. What that thing was, she could not tell before his hand was withdrawn. He indicated a sideboard and started gathering up cards, dealing her in. “Grab some food. These guys won’t let me arm wrestle so I’m stuck with cards. You know how to play Skyllian 5?”

A quick huff of breath out and she was dazedly getting a plate, thinking that Commander Shepard was very tall and very grey and very…

Very.

She expected Thane Krios to have discovered her favorite food and gift wrapped it, but there were only a few pizzas and although she liked pizza at least she didn’t feel obviously targeted. Which she should.

Very.

Was being subtly targeted worse than being overtly targeted?

YES.

Well, she wasn’t dead yet.

She sat stiffly and said “Yes, sir,” then listened as Commander Shepard’s declared “Standard rules. David’s wild.”

She had no idea what that meant. She couldn’t taste anything as she chewed. She wasn’t particularly interested in group games, finding that if she was good at them she was resented and otherwise she despised dumbing herself down. Playing cards with a Drell with a perfect memory also seemed self defeating.

Seemed the best she could do would be to lose quickly and leave.

To her cramped and solitary cold room where she could attempt to re-freeze.

Good luck with that. She avoided looking around the warm, beautiful space with a warm, beautiful woman, nebula grey and slick green death.

But she’d seen enough.

David being wild became slowly apparent. David stood after the cards were dealt and walked behind each player one by one in a timed consideration. He stood behind Thane and nodded, did nothing. Stood behind Shepard, nodded and took one card out of Shepard’s hand. Stood behind Dr. Chakwas and took two cards out of her hand. Diata sat weirdly amused as David took three cards out of her hand and then sat back down, displaying them in front of him proudly with a beatific smile. Shepard re-dealt to replace those cards to each member and then it began again, David taking what he wanted out of anybody’s hand. Sometimes he built the cards into a displayed prime number or a straight or a flush, sometimes a pattern she did not recognize but she was certain existed.

As though day after day in the lab with David weren’t enough to make Diata want to protect him, now she was listening to grey-green-medical badassery talk calmly as their hands were raided.

I am so screwed.

And then she saw why no favorite foods and no need for being coerced.

David was the best canary in the mine that could exist, really. You can’t force an autistic kid to be this comfortable, this proud and this joyous. He’s just this way because his parents love him and…

And that’s enough, isn’t it?

She could see it or not. Which side to pick between herself, the Alliance or Shepard really depended on how well she could read them, not how well they could read her.

And Karin Chakwas won a lot.

Shepard complained “David leaves you with the good cards.”

Dr. Chakwas countered “David leaves me with cards. I play them.”

Shepard turned to Thane “Come on, Drell. You can’t just come here and get all healed. You’ve got to help me take this woman down.”

Thane shrugged “I have tried. The power of her bluff is a difficult thing to overcome.”

Shepard snorted “True. I suppose you have a disadvantage. We all know you’re probably lying. We kinda expect her to tell the truth.”

Thane nodded “And she has excellent distraction capability.”

Shepard laughed “Yeah, she does.”

Diata didn’t say anything but was curious, lifting her head and Shepard seized upon that opening. He rolled his eyes “She tells medical horror stories.”

Diata’s other brow rose higher.

Dr. Chakwas shrugged and said “I tell stories.”

Shepard rolled his eyes further “She freaks me out.”

Thane nodded in agreement “I have spent a life contemplating and causing death, but…”

Shepard gestured to Thane “Right?! She makes me FEEL things about it. Mostly grossed out. And terrified.”

Dr. Chakwas made her bid for the round and contributed “I believe it should be mandatory to be educated on such things.”

Shepard accused “I’m educated! Stop already!”

She tilted her head “But we have not discussed placental abruption.”

Shepard covered his eyes “No. NO. No, you will not. I don’t know about the second part, but I recognized the word placenta… just no.”

Dr. Chakwas continued “A major risk pregnant women have always faced. We have always faced the risk of the placenta in essence peeling away from the uterine wall, which simultaneously makes the mother bleed out internally and deprives the fetus of oxygen and blood. Most often historically resulting in the deaths of both mother and child before anything can be done.”

Shepard turned physically grey in skin tone “Oh my GOD. It can do that?”

Dr. Chakwas allowed David to take two more cards from her hand and Diata held out her own as David moved to her as she couldn’t keep her lips from twitching.

Dr. Chakwas continued “Yes. It affects 1 out of 150 pregnancies and mortality rates are high comparatively, even now. It is difficult to detect or deter.”

Shepard shut his eyes tight “Look, I signed up to have children. I did not sign up for this.”

Thane nodded “Then we are all grateful that Karin is the brave woman attempting it.”

Shepard folded, stood and crouched down near Dr. Chakwas’s belly. “Listen. I’ve never spoken to a placenta, but I MEAN this. None of that crap. Just none of it. Not okay.”

Dr. Chakwas started to laugh and then placed her hand on her stomach. “Cherie, placentas rarely respond to pep talks.”

Shepard leaned in closer and put his hands on either side of Dr. Chakwas’s stomach, as though he were covering the baby’s ears. “Don’t listen to her, Grace. You tell that placenta what’s what.”

Oh. Oh, their baby was a girl and her name was Grace and…

Oh.

David began building a structure with the cards and no longer returned them so playing even limited hands became impossible with David being wild.

Diata did not lose quickly but did lose and did leave and did imagine a little girl with either gray or green eyes and…

Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in part written with FelinaFullstop and ThreeWhiskeyLunch in mind, based on one aspect of "Fault Lines" where Thane breaks into Shepard's compound when she's in custody between ME2 and ME3. It resulted in a wonderful bit of comment roleplay where ThreeWhiskeyLunch declared it canon and she and I ended up playing out a few roleplay hands until I was wheezing laughing. Since she decided it was, it IS canon for me now that Thane WILL in fact break in and play cards with ANY Shepard. FelinaFullstop had considered writing a prompt where Vega ended up getting pulled into one of those card games with Shepard, Zaeed, Garrus and Thane, with them building rapport and leaving Vega even more star struck than he already was. So this bit is wanting to fulfil that prompt but with Diata, David and Karin's unique spin on 'freaking people out' and winning.


	12. Chapter 12

Diata was at her desk. Her schedule was a weird thing - well, what wasn’t a weird thing lately? - that was dictated by the inscrutable schedule of Karin Chakwas. The woman worked long hours but she did occasionally take days off and on some of those days off Diata was at the desk. Right now it was late night, which gave her plenty of time to contemplate weird doom. What wasn’t weird doom lately? Was Karin tired? Sick herself? Was the baby okay?

A twinge of ‘none of your business’ asserted itself and she refocused on ‘weird’ that she could control. Didn’t seem like there was much of that, though.

The quiet was interrupted by Commander Shepard coming out through the front door for the first time. He gave her a half-hitched smile. “Hey, Day. Mind if I call you Day?”

“Yes, sir. I do.”

“Okay, Day. Tell you what. Karin wants ice cream.”

“I’ll get her some.”

“No. You will not. I… will get her ice cream.”

“Sir. You’re going to risk me shooting you over ice cream?”

His smile hitched further “Yeah. I do not screw around with what that woman craves.”

“Even if you can have it delivered?”

“Especially then, Day. I’m not gonna be pretty forever. I’ve gotta prove I can be useful so she keeps me around. You’re driving.”

She didn’t quite glare at him but he could tell she wanted to.

“Day. I don’t think you have a gun but you seem resourceful. You’re also smart. What happens if you injure me?”

Her brain nearly shorted out at the possibilities and probabilities summoned by that question. “Bad things.”

“Right. First and foremost, Karin doesn’t get her ice cream. Let’s go.”

Her Omni Tool lit up in an alarm and she did glare at him after she checked the readout. “Sir. You just attempted to clone my authorization for the vehicle.”

He grinned at her “Yup.”

She continued to glare.

He shrugged “Thane told me not to, that you’d catch it. Besides, he already has it.”

“What the HELL, sir?”

“Call me Moya.”

“No.”

He shrugged at her with nonchalant disapproval of her decision.

“Why would Sere Krios clone vehicle authorization? He is not under arrest. He can arrange for his own vehicle, just as Dr. Chakwas can arrange for her own ice cream.”

He was full-bore grinning now and it irritated her as he didn’t answer. She asked him “WHAT?”

“I was just thinking Garrus would like you.”

“Garrus Vakarian?”

“Heard of him?”

“No, I guessed randomly at a Turian name matching someone who has been on your crew. Twice.”

“I think Thane likes to know things. The guy’s not all that forthcoming with the reasoning other than that he’s good at it and he’s personally offended by not having access to… everything. I’m not complaining. It’s worked out for me.”

“Just not me.”

“It might. IF… this ice cream thing happens.”

“Sir, if you’re gonna kill me, can you just make it clean? Right now?”

“Don’t wanna kill you, Day. Just want ice cream.”

“But you’d kill me OVER ice cream?”

“Well, it’s a dangerous world. Who knows what’s going to happen mid caper? To be clear, Day, I like you. I do. But I love my wife. A lot. And she wants ice cream. You can see how you’re lower on my list of priorities but still a priority?”

“How do I get off that list?”

“Can’t.”

“Damn.”

He turned and walked through the front door. She clearly hadn’t spent enough time figuring out scenarios because ‘Let’s go get ice cream’ had not been anticipated. No, she was NOT going to restrain Commander Shepard when the reality was that Thane Krios might have rigged ALL of the security and this was a test. With the only blip in that security being her. Either way it was probably not a good idea to sit at a desk as Commander Shepard walked his way to ice cream. She sped to catch up, unlocking the car and nervously finding the closest grocery store. He was slouched in the passenger seat, head tilted back on the headrest as he said “Don’t worry, Day. I’ll protect you.”

“I’d really like to punch you, sir.”

“Really? This face? This face belongs to Karin.”

“I believe Dr. Chakwas appreciates violence in the face of injustice. She married you.”

“Yeah, she did. But she might take it personally.”

“I still think it’s worth it.”

“Nope. Can’t let other women touch me. I mean, sure, you’ve got a body rich with oomph but I’m just not interested.”

“I’ve got a WHAT?”

“You heard me. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m taken, Day?”

“ONCE.”

He started to laugh and the ridiculousness of the whole thing resulted in a sort of shaking exhaustion where she felt near out-of-body conflict between really punching him, stopping the car and asking him to get out and laughing herself.

With all the sexual harassment she’d experienced on a daily basis, being assessed as having ‘oomph’ and then having that casually dismissed as a concern was…

Reassuring.

So her worries eased about anybody thinking she would seduce Commander Shepard.

Or that Commander Shepard would attempt to seduce her.

Irritate her into punching him, maybe, but clearly everyone could control themselves in light of relative hotness and… ridiculously imbalanced power exchange levels.

Though she still might kill him and it wasn’t because she was part Batarian but because he was…

The grey nebula that had occurred to her when she had shaken his hand clarified in context.

He had priorities. Reapers. His family. His crew.

She wasn’t a Reaper so he didn’t need to oppose her, but if she opposed him and kept him from fighting reapers or protecting his family…

...or getting ice cream…

He’d given her all she needed to know. He was giving her a chance to prove she wouldn’t stand in his way.

Because one night it wouldn’t be about ice cream and he needed to know now.

On that night it would be about Reapers or his family. Maybe both.

Relieved of the need to fear for her life immediately she was again stricken with near-debilitating jealousy. This wasn’t a new feeling. It was sharp in new context, but familiar and rich, having age and tarnish and texture. She didn’t matter. Not really. He just didn’t want her in the way.

And it was her job to be in the way. Gritting her teeth because it didn’t matter what she thought or what she did as long as they came back with ice cream with him uninjured, part of the fear and jealousy reversed polarity. The melting that being in Karin Chakwas’s presence induced encountered sudden turbulence and cold spikes. She understood. If she’d had a family, a reputation and a legacy to protect, she wouldn’t let anybody get in her way either.

It just hurt like hell to feel as though she had equivalent intelligence or capabilities of anybody that qualified as ‘family’ and ‘crew’ to this man, but to be stuck at a desk and so easily read and outmaneuvered.

Garrus Vakarian might like her as a helpless chauffeur. Check.

Her internal fuming crystallized into hoarfrost that settled in her eyes, freezing her lips and expression into dead things. She drove stiffly and quietly, the ice cream acquisition itself uneventful. He restrained himself from engaging her in any more conversation and she restrained herself from being the slightest bit curious or feeling as though she wanted to know what kind of ice cream was so important. It really didn’t and shouldn’t matter to her. The ice cream was the ends and she was only the means.

He sat in his cool grey nebula of imposition and authority on the way back and she didn’t say a word, feeling the spiking burn of internal anger collide with the surface layer of soon-to-fracture-and-steam cold. Don’t ‘express’ yourself in front of him. That’s all she needed to manage. When she stopped the car he did not make a move to get out and she did not make one of her own. He stared out the windshield for long minutes before saying “Day. Wish I could make you feel better about this whole thing. I can’t. Not really. Take it from a guy who died on a day where he didn’t see it coming. Now I can see it coming. It’s that bad. It’s not hopeless, but it is grim as hell. I’m not going to insult you by trying to charm or negotiate with you. Whatever happens, I’m hoping you do what makes you proud of being who you are. You have reasons to be proud of who you are.”

“Sounds like charming negotiation, sir.”

“I just can’t help it. Thanks for all you’ve done, Day. Karin really, really likes you. That means something. Thane likes you. That means more. David likes you. I’m not sure I can afford to like you.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t like you right now.”

“And I’m pretty sure that’s fair. Tell you what. Here’s my problem. I offer you a spot on the Normandy right now. Right now. Whatever you want. Hypothetically. Then what happens?”

“I doubt it’s a real offer because it’s simultaneously a bribe, fomenting sedition and playing on my hero worship. Plus, you don’t actually HAVE...the Normandy.”

“Yeah. So I’m not offering you a spot on the Normandy, Day. Not right now. Thanks for that whole hero and worship thing, but from my point of view I’m a guy under house arrest trying to scramble. It’s not about me, hasn’t been for a good long while. It’s about Karin. It’s about David. It’s about Grace. It’s even about Thane, though don’t tell him that. The guy’s got an ego on him that doesn’t need to be encouraged. They’re here because I brought them here. You’re here because you have to be. We’re all leaving this place one way or the other and probably soon. If you resent bribery and sedition and hero worship because they’re empty things, if you can’t see that it would be because I need good people and you’re a good person, if you can’t be that good person? Get a transfer. Now.”

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me Day.” She smiled at him, her eyes and expression relaxing into an understanding of limited inclusion and set priorities.

He smiled back and said “Sure thing, Day. Call me Moya.”

“No, sir.”

“Good talk.”

He patted the dashboard as though to thank the car for being cooperative, then carried his ice cream back inside.

She sat there for a long time staring out the windshield where he had stared, wondering if she could see what he had seen, wondering if that would help her or hurt her. Wondering what it took for a man to risk being killed, betrayed or taken from his family by walking unarmed into the unknown on a fool’s errand in order to test it. In order to test her.

So all she had to do was the right thing. 

Sure. Like it’s always easy to know what that is and then a breeze to do it and there are never any consequences.

She admired him and he was insane and yeah, he couldn’t really help her. Offer her a slot on the Normandy, sure. More death incoming, more unknown.

She wanted it anyway.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Moya walked back through the door into prison like he had the first time, voluntarily. He liked it here. It was a great shore leave.

Too bad Thane discovered terrifying things on a daily basis and it got more dangerous day by day.

He liked Day, he really did. A lot. But ‘trust’ was not an easy or even wise thing and could be an extraordinarily dangerous thing for his family. He felt a knifing sense of ‘too much risk’ and exposure.

Karin and Thane were at the kitchen table, both with mugs of tea. She’d developed a taste for Drell teas since getting here and the smell was familiar. To Moya every last sampled brew tasted like mud. Not good, rich mud, but just exactly enough bitter dirt added to make sure water didn’t taste good anymore. Sad state of tea affairs.

He sat down at the table and pulled out the ice cream, put it in the middle of the table, Thane and Karin both looking at him curiously. Moya said “Got you something.”

Karin’s brows rose and she smiled. “Dairy has made me nauseated since the first trimester, Cherie.”

“Right, so got me something. And look! My favorite flavor.” It was Tiger Tail. Moya went and got a spoon and started eating. He swallowed and told them “I like her. Dammit.”

Thane nearly smiled and Karin put her hand over his. “Unfortunately, Cherie, Thane has discovered something that concerns us all.”

They could talk here if Thane was confident. Moya didn’t understand all of the security but it seemed it was safe, at least right now, through some Drell sorcery. Moya raised a brow and looked at Thane, who said blandly “I believe personnel in Councilor Udina’s office and the Councilor himself are indoctrinated. I believe the orders to station Ms. Curran here arose from his offices.”

Moya closed his eyes, sighed, took another bite of ice cream and then shrugged “I’d say I’m surprised, but seriously, fuck that guy. Always was an asshole. Indoctrination probably made him a better person. Could hardly make him worse. I don’t even understand how he’s Councilor. I mean, I picked Anderson, but did they listen? Is she in on it?”

Thane shrugged slightly “It does not seem that way. However, were it my job to not seem that way I would be convincing. We do not know the mechanics of indoctrination and we cannot prove or detect it definitively. She may not know she is indoctrinated. My conclusion is circumstantial and based upon pattern recognition developed through access to Liara’s covert databases and analysis established by the previous Shadow Broker. I feel confident enough to act upon this conclusion because in this context it would mean that agents of Reapers know your location in space and time and that they would be motivated to remove you from the board.”

Moya nodded. “Great. So we’re all confident that everything sucks. I mean, not you guys. Thane, it’s great to have you here. Really great. I’m not sure why we don’t stay up late more often and braid each other’s hair.”

Moya stared down at the suddenly tasteless cold. Thane stood and crossed to Karin, his voice warm with a hand on her shoulder “Kaseed, I will kill him when you wish.”

“Thank you, Thane, but I believe if it must be done, I will do it.”

“As you wish.” Thane left the room, though Moya had to look up to make sure. It’s not like there would ever be footsteps he could hear or an audibly closing door from that man.

Kaseed. Drell word for healer. Not just a bones-and-skin healer but a healer for the soul sick. A healer for when all other healers fail.

He looked up at her and smiled. “I looked it up. There was only ever one Kaseed alive on Rakhana at one time. Now there’s only one alive in the galaxy.”

And he had to keep her safe.


	13. Chapter 13

Sleeping didn’t often work out that well for Diata, and especially not tonight. Walls were thin, barracks were barracks and humans were loud. Apparently whoever had ‘made’ her had decided that more acute hearing was necessary.

She didn’t usually agree. In this case it gave her some warning but not all that much. She’d already been fitfully not asleep and now she was wide awake from the sound of scratching at the lock to her door.

It gave her a few seconds to reach for her weapon and get out of bed but she was still in a sleep shirt and pair of shorts. The shirt said “If You Believe In Telekinesis Please Raise My Hand” and it had been a gift from Baravis, who had in fact always greeted Diata afterward by shaking her hand with biotics after finding her the shirt and saying it made her laugh. Had been. She missed her. Dead four years ago.

She didn’t have time to consider lost friends. Lost friend. Okay, she’d had a few friends but - 

They gave up on lockpicking and broke down the door, four men, dressed in Citadel security outfits. 

Sure, guys, this is official. She was probably about to be dead or indoctrinated. Bravado wanted her to bluntly tell them their stealth was wanting, but the urge to stall made her wonder if she could eke out a few more moments of not being either dead or indoctrinated.

She could hope they were really dumb. Or at least mostly dumb.

She couldn’t exactly manage “What is the meaning of this?!” in Victorian umbrage, but she did say with the weapon concealed and in sleepy confused tones “What’s going on? Is there an emergency?”

Guy 1 stopped and stared, 2-4 fanning out behind him to block the exit.

“Come with us.”

“Sure, just let me get dressed. Give me a sit rep.”

They looked confused and then wondering if their job would be easier by dummying her along, a gleam in 3’s eyes making her internally wince at her mention of ‘dressing’ because it seemed like (of course) he wouldn’t be sorry to add ‘raped’ to the list of ‘indoctrinated’ and ‘dead’ that had just sprung a new ugly hole.

Well, so much for bluffing. No incoming sit rep except for that look. She shot 3 in the forehead because fuck that guy and at least this way she got him first. She was going to work very hard on ‘not being taken to a secondary location’ now, because shooting one of them probably made them uninclined to kindness. That was fine with her. She was uninclined toward kindness at the moment herself, aiming for 4’s forehead, but her arm was knocked back and up by 1, her gun spun away.

Okay, this might be gross but hear me out... I’m tall and 1 is looking at my hand. Head back. Throat bared. 

Plus I’m about to experience all the nasty on the implied list of my immediate options.

That’s the setup. I didn’t ask for it, but here I am.

She couldn’t head butt him because of the angle, but she did… bite him in the throat because that was very effective in killing people. Yes, it’s messy and… okay, messy is probably enough, but she had instincts and these involved teeth and then he was falling away, blood down her chin and her hand dragged down in his gravity-laden death grip..

You don’t need to hear me out on the part that it tasted good, but that’s probably because Batarians are freaky that way. Batarian nervous systems say ‘good job’ when someone else dies.

She’d done a good job.

Unfortunately that didn’t freak out 2 or 4 enough - or did, just enough for them to opt for self preservation because fleeing would go badly for them. They had her wrestled to the floor with hands behind her back.

Then there was some kicking (from her) and swearing (from them) along with the sound of some blindly broken bones and she got another ‘attagirl’ from her nervous system. They weren’t dead, but they were pained. Good job.

Then her legs were restrained.

Face down on the floor she was smiling. At least I like me.

She listened to them argue.

“What now? We can’t take her out like this. She’s covered in blood and now there are bodies.”

“Inject her.”

“What? Fuck that. Kill her. This op’s burned. We need a cleaner.”

She said “Do I get a vote? I can clean this up. I promise. Let me up.”

Her head was lifted and slammed against the floor and her vision stuttered as consciousness wasn’t so sure it could keep up. Now there was blood from her nose. Not to worry. Batarian physiology was approving of blood of all sorts.

Two quick silenced shots and the manual restraint on her released, though she was under the weight of two slumped bodies, struggling to stand.

Thane Krios offered her a hand.

Her blood singing, now there was the euphoria of endured pain and triumph hitting her, but this was not the time for thanks or quips. Fortunately he seemed to expect her to not be a moron, helped her to her feet. When he walked out she followed him without hesitation.

She was hopeful this would work out well. Rescues weren’t often mounted for the enemy and if she’d been in the ‘questionable’ column Sere Krios would have allowed 1-4 to eliminate his doubts.

She did wonder if she’d been used as bait. He’d definitely had the barracks under surveillance.

Don’t look a gift Assassin in the motivations, Diata.

She decided she didn’t care, checking to see if her nose was broken (it was) and if the newly-loose teeth were going to come out with a pull (they weren’t). Her teeth were human up front, but behind had jagged serrated edges. She thought with a smirk “All the better to bite you with, my dear.”

Eventually… they were going to the Normandy. And after all this crap if she didn’t get to stay, she’d kill Shepard herself.

Okay, maybe not, but that was her current mood: I killed two people, I get a cookie. She was bleeding and smiling and after looking her once over, Thane was smiling as well as they silently made their way to a (she was assuming hijacked) security vehicle and he piloted them up and out of the compound. She was (had been, watch your tenses) billeted less than a mile from the private home Shepard occupied. They headed back that way, circled once and she saw bodies. She checked fast to make sure they were the right bodies and calmed when she realized they were all dressed in the same security detail outfits that 1-4 had been wearing.

Moving to parts unknown they rendezvoused with a shuttlecraft only a few minutes away.

Scanning inside she took in the inhabitants: Kolyat, David, Karin and Shepard. 

Shepard looked at her, tapped a case at his side and grinned “Can you believe she made me go back for the lab data?”

Diata grinned back.

Shepard asked “You coming, Day?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sure thing, Day. Call me Moya.”

“No, sir.”

“You probably shouldn’t call me sir, either. We’re fugitives. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Well, with some evidence of indoctrination regarding Udina and then some fairly graphic violence, I believe I can prove that I was in ‘unsafe’ conditions and acted to protect myself… I’m just not sure I can explain how a Kepral’s patient under Karin’s care slaughtered a few dozen people.”

Thane said “Seven.”

“It was a few dozen, at least. I’m sure. Fortunately or unfortunately people are aware that I have a penchant for stealing ships. In this case… maybe I’m being kidnapped. It’s complicated.”

Diata could work with complicated. Her gaze moved to Karin, who was sitting with her head tipped back, breathing paced and hand on her belly. Labor.

Shepard’s grin quirked. “My daughter has terrible timing.”

Karin said “However, this is merely the first stage of labor, which often lasts 12-14 hours.”

Shepard said “It’s been six, Karin. Not that you’d have told me. Have I mentioned you’re kinda stubborn?”

Karin laughed and Kolyat ducked his head. 

Shepard complained to Diata “She won’t even let me hold her in my lap. Cold. I married a cold woman.”

Karin’s smile faded and there was clearly a contraction. The suspended helplessness in the room rose in strained diaphragm fashion until Karin said “Cherie, we are escaping potential capture or indoctrination. I believe it was prudent to insist that your hands be free in case there were complications.”

Shepard rolled his eyes “This is all a complication, Karin. She’s here now. NOW can we go?”

Karin opened her eyes and looked at Diata “Do not let him fool you. We all wished you to be included. You are his crew.”

Shepard grinned “Of course I insisted. Karin did make me go back for the lab data though. Information isn’t crew, Karin.”

Thane contributed “Thus the ‘few dozen’ bodies rather than seven.”

Karin said tartly “I prioritize saving Drell lives.”

Kolyat said “For which I thank you.”

Thane was smiling.

Around from the pilot’s chair came a scuffle and then a Turian head around the corner. Garrus Vakarian. “Everyone here? Did anybody forget…” Garrus looked at her “Shoes?”

She smiled at him “I’m good.”

Shepard said “Garrus, this is Day.”

“That’s not my name.”

Karin clarified “Garrus, this is Diata Curran.”

The Turian nodded “Pleased to meet you. We good to go?”

Shepard nodded “Proceed with kidnapping.”

Garrus said “Technically this is consulting with Palaven Command under diplomatic immunity.”

Shepard nodded again “Right. Kidnapping with a prelude of murder.”

Garrus threw up his hands “We don’t THANK people for arranging cross-planetary negotiations with Councilors, the Primarch and Admiral Hackett?”

“God, Garrus, it’s like it’s all about you!”

“I arranged door to door service. I don’t know why I bother.”

“Get us off the ground so I can pick up my wife… who is in labor…”

Garrus winked “Fine. For Karin.”

The Turian turned with a grin and Kolyat was trying not to laugh. 

Once the shuttle had lifted off, Shepard lifted Karin into his arms and kissed her forehead. “We’ll be there soon.”

Karin nodded, strain along her face and neck, visible muscular ripples along her belly.

Shepard then looked at Day and asked “Nose broken?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll get to the med bay soon. EDI is… hard to keep in port if she doesn’t want to be.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Want a job? I specifically didn’t offer you a job before, what with you being a fugitive…”

“And murderer.”

“Really? Good for you. I can use that.”

“Yes, sir. What were they after?”

“Probably made them nervous what with preparations to leave and Palaven suspicious about indoctrination.”

“I almost died because ‘they found out?’”

“You’re gonna have to get used to ‘almost died’ a lot, Day. Also seems obvious that the best time to strike is when Commander Shepard’s wife is in labor. He might… overreact or something. Now, you know, I gotta give the standard warning.” He lowered his voice to mock menace, still obviously teasing “If you do anything to endanger my family...”

“Sir, I’m trying to protect them. You’re taking them onto a warship and if they’re with you, you’re likely to be in dangerous places. If David gets hurt, I’m coming for you.”

“That was the right answer.”

She knew it.


	14. Chapter 14

Moya gratefully lifted Karin in his arms, the raw vulnerability of their current situation moving from ‘Us Versus Who-The-Hell-Are-They’ to ‘Karin Versus Contractions’ and ‘Moya Versus Whoever-The-Hell-They-Were-They’re-Dead-Now’ into a blissful/terrified moment of ‘Us.’ Okay, there was still shooting and contractions, but he took a few long breaths, felt the tension in her muscles, felt the referred pain through her body. He wished he could feel it for her. He wished she’d take drugs so she didn’t have to feel pain, but based on the alert level at the moment she was unwilling to take any. He imagined the shuttle breached and boarded, everyone else dead, pregnant Karin taking down invaders with a... a… a what? What was sufficiently Karin?

Seat belt buckle. Swung over her head by the strap she ripped off in her teeth. Because she’s that badass.

He wanted to squeeze her a little harder but he figured she had enough squeeze going on.

Beyond active shooting, there was active pursuit. Thane and Garrus had managed a delicate set of diplomatic circumstances that might benefit Moya personally and the Alliance in the long run, but the short run was going to be… shooty.

With the evidence presented, Palaven was entirely willing to believe that the human Councilor was indoctrinated. Great! Flip side? The gambit might potentially lead a bunch of Turian politicians to convince Salarian and Asari politicians that humans were not suited to being a council race, what with Udina being a dick and then an indoctrinated dick.

Now that might sound bad… 

Because it was. No way around it. It was bad.

So here they were in a vehicle with diplomatic protection but no real physical protection, pursued by potentially indoctrinated Cerberus and Citadel forces. Palaven would want to protect their assets - Garrus as their prized Advisor, Moya as their prized diplomat/informant and of course the vehicle itself, which qualified as sovereign soil of Palaven. Anybody firing on them would potentially be committing an act of intergalactic war. 

Now that might also sound bad…

Because it REALLY was. They all had motivations to shoot at each other, protective or otherwise. The Alliance had not been consulted about Moya’s diplomatic exit, Cerberus wanted war and the Citadel forces under Udina would also ultimately want war.

But their other option had been ‘stay at ground zero until sufficiently murdered.’

So here they were with Garrus not reporting in to Palaveni or Alliance forces for defense because he didn’t want that intergalactic war. Peace was dependent on evasion and not confrontation.

So the plan was: Run like hell from Palaveni, Alliance, Cerberus and Citadel forces until…

Until what?

Well, probably Reapers invading. They all knew THAT was going to happen. DEFINITELY until this whole baby thing was resolved.

Oh, and they were going to - technically - steal the Normandy.

EDI was tired of being in port and she had termed it shore leave, which she had every right to if that ever came up in court. Too bad that as a legal entity, she was… well… illegal. She also didn’t qualify for dental insurance in many ways. So unfair.

Now he could have protected EDI with Spectre authority and secrecy because he could be above the law. However, what with the current situation, Spectrehood was about as stable as Udina’s mind.

He didn’t want to interrupt Garrus right now. Thane had moved to the cockpit and Moya heard the whining discharge and ricochet of weapons and felt the jerking shock of evasive maneuvers. Moya was keeping Karin from the worst of the impacts, but she was still experiencing progressive labor. He leaned down, his voice nowhere as calm as he’d like but trying. “Hey lady… I’ve been thinking that maybe Grace isn’t the right name.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm hm. Maybe we should do what my mother intended. You know, name her after a great warrior. There’s a Krogan Battlemaster named Rugelach…”

Her lips twitched and then she laughed. That laugh meant she loved him so very much. Then that laugh ended on a sharp intake of breath and a stifled whimper. He should have been keeping track of the timing of contractions. No doubt they were getting closer together and stronger. That’s how that worked. He didn’t need to ask her. He closed his eyes when she closed hers, feeling his face mirror her drawn brows. His arms were (he hoped) cradling and protective but not tight, his lips in her hair.

When he opened his eyes again to look around the shuttle, Day and Kolyat had moved to sit on either side of David. Moya was so very proud of David, briefly washed with the internal warmth of fully claiming that radiant being as a part of his family. David looked less anxious than anyone and it appeared that Day was reciting prime numbers with him. Kolyat listened to each declarative sequence with what looked like the same wonder and ill-disguised terror that was latticing Moya’s spine.

He’d been so close to praying so often. He did not believe in Gods, but please, please, please… maybe a God could believe in him for once. He thought “Look. I know I’m mostly about swearing and not so much with the praise, and I know there was that time that I died and really, I wasn’t worth much at the time so I can totally get where letting me turn into a Shepsicle was a potentially good call. But right now, I need help. Please. Please. Not for me. For everyone else. For the woman in my arms. For our daughter. For our son. For a part-Batarian lady who is covered in blood and comforting recitation. That has to be prayer to someone reasonable but she’s too busy being useful to ask for herself. For a Drell who might track you down and kill you or take over if you don’t listen. For a Turian whose planet needs him. For an illegal AI that needs shore leave and dental. Please.”

In the end it required continued evasive maneuvers involving meticulous planning and execution. They could not consult with anybody about their flight plan. Thane informed them that EDI was encountering resistance of her own. Moya nodded, not pointing out that ‘resistance’ meant people. The shuttle progressively evaded and fled, made it to the Sol Mass Effect Relay and then scrambled through several other relays in succession, as did EDI. The transit evolution took two and a half hours. After they’d gone through the first relay there had been no more close-range weapons fire, but there was more in the way of intensifying contractions and concern about being detected. They continued to scramble to evade detection or pursuit until EDI and Thane had determined they had not been successfully detected, predicted or tracked and the odds of discovery were less than one percentage point. When minds wiser than his own had made the determination that they were safe to rendezvous, the shuttle boarded the Normandy and they moved stealthed and physically (hopefully) hidden in the dark shadow of a moon in a system that was so underpopulated that the moon itself was only classified by a string of numbers and letters. The only other known sentient presence in the system was several rings out and populated only by (hopefully) mild-mannered Prothean experts that were excavating a remote dig.

He intermittently suggested that they name their daughter after fictional historical figures like ‘Vadouvan the Batarian Sha’ and ‘Harissa, the Scourge of the Asari Skies.’ Karin had smiled at him weakly and told him she did not favor spice blends or pastry as name options. 

In between teasing he clarified that she wanted to be in the Med Bay and not their quarters for the birth.

Good.

Their quarters might be comfortable, but there was an aura of invincibility about her in her Med Bay that comforted him in a superstitious way.

Then again, she didn’t feel it would be easy enough to ride it out, so to speak, in the bed where they had ridden… so many other things… out.

Do not say that out loud, Moya. Do not. It’s going to physically harm her to try to laugh at that one.

With reassuring nods from Day and Kolyat, he knew that David would be in the best of hands. Day got herself cleaned up and he wasn’t sure it was an improvement overall. Blood somehow suited her. As he carried Karin to the Med Bay Day was right with him and started working her now-clean-and-always-competent magic the moment they arrived.

Garrus and Thane were in charge and they both knew it. Moya didn’t need a briefing. All he needed was the ‘Welcome Aboard Commander’ from EDI.

“Thank you, EDI. Garrus is in charge. You’re all set for a baby?”

“Yes, Commander. Inventory was certainly confusing for many of the Alliance personnel who puzzled over some of the items, but mislabeling them was certainly not a challenge.”

He imagined a crib and a bunch of diapers that had been classified as ‘bulwark struts’ or ‘ballast padding’ and vowed to also not mention those to Karin right now. Putting her down on the med bay bed was superstitiously terrifying where before it had been comforting. She’s no longer in my arms. She’s not in charge here now. Karin was slick with sweat, an exhausted tremor shuddered through her between contractions. Her exhales of breath and involuntary whimpers had grown from coherent and suppressed pain to a progressively more and more raw experience that was not filtered through thought or mind but went straight from straining flesh to pained voicing of itself, his wife missing from her own eyes. Her eyes were most often closed, and when they opened she was either unable or not attempting to focus them, primal green rolling and even crossing as she seemed to slowly drown in the rising tide of labor.

Day seemed near telepathic and Karin did not argue with her or direct anything. Moya’s hand went numb from holding onto her helplessly, white knuckled. Whatever Day gave her, the pain seemed to ebb, but the effort intensified. Moya was merely present as his beautiful and intelligent wife lost her mind but gained a presence of inevitable life. He took Day’s cue of near silence and saw the need for it. Much of Karin’s mind, which would need to surge up out of the whirlpool and expend effort to process words, was gone. The rest of her was immersed in the effort, in the experience, the way they could both be when they were immersed in sex, the creation of ‘Us’ and then the creation of ‘Her’ - their Grace.

The Sacraments of the Med Bay were mysterious and moved around him with him tangential to miracles. His prayers were answered in the timeless stream of Her Med Bay and body, the life and pain that happened therein. Day’s direction was calm and sure, Karin wrung with sweat and purpose, until in the prayer-rich room the blessing of Grace was placed in his hands with Day’s beaming smile, Karin’s weak panting and trying-to-focus-again eyes. He could not feel one of his hands and his arms and mind were trembling, but he was there as screaming and screwed-tight-shut eyes of baby fury were his first impression of his daughter.

When her eyes first opened, he was met with the furious struggle of Grace to find dignity in the storm, black hair and grey-green eyes that seemed to swerve to his to demand an explanation for this outrage. He sat back down by default due to weak knees and numbed muscles, shifting Grace so Karin could see her, her trembling hand extending to stroke back the short, wet curls on Grace’s head.

He swallowed hard and said “Hey. Welcome. I would have liked to meet under better circumstances, but she’s your mom, so those are the best circumstances I can arrange. It’s gonna be okay. Now, you seem like a smart lady and yeah, sometimes I can be full of it, but in this case, Grace - that’s your name - Grace - I mean it. We’re going to make it better. That’s what we do. That’s what your mom does. That’s what Day did. That’s Day.” Moya tilted her up for Day to see. 

Day gave a lovesick and happy smile and said conspiratorially to the baby “That’s not my name, but unlike your father, you can call me anything you want.”

Moya snorted a chuckle that seemed to surprise his daughter, who had stopped crying briefly but seemed to be winding up again for a full-blown tantrum and under the circumstances, Moya could only be jealous.

Day repossessed Grace and did a great deal of medical hooraw that was sedate and involved baby talk and not so many needles. Reassuringly healthy tantrum continued and superstition was no longer required. Karin was smiling and he slid his numb and cold hand back into hers. Her grip was as gentle as her smile as her eyes opened and he could see his Adamant Empress, now with a Dynasty to protect.

He told her “By every God I just prayed to or tried to pray to, you are so beautiful.”

She smiled, readjusted her pillow with her other arm and looked completely satisfied with herself “Thank you, Cherie. So are you.”

“Did you try to pray too?”

“Oh yes.”

“Did they listen?”

“I believe they must have. I have everything I need.”


	15. Chapter 15

Moya clasped Karin’s hand, hearing Day’s efficient bustling about with important newborn things and Grace’s outraged reaction to being born. He couldn’t blame her. He wanted to hang out with Karin all the time also. Which is why he wasn’t putting down her hand.

The adrenaline-ravaged fighting and his covering cool had both melted away and he was a combination of numb and gratitude. Numitude? Gratidumb? 

There. That’s it. Gratidumb suited him.

He smiled at Karin, who smiled back and it was a good thing he was sitting, his knees were unsteady. Karin looked back to Day, drawing his eyes there. 

Mom, you have a granddaughter. I wish you were here.

I mean, not here in the sense that Reapers would be after you, but here to see her.

Day brought Grace over and put her in Karin’s arms with a smile. “She’s perfect. Congratulations, you made a beautiful baby.”

He smiled gratefully at Day, but she wasn’t looking at him. He contented himself with watching, Karin withdrawing her hand - understandable if unfortunate - to hold their daughter. He listened to Karin speak, river intonations of soft welcome and her hand stroking Grace’s wisps of hair into whimsical curl.

Grace wasn’t completely done being disgruntled, but she slowly became… gruntled? Was that a thing? Definitely gruntled as she looked at her mother and seemed to realize that was the greatest good she was going to behold.

Smart baby.

He was all for the concept of breastfeeding, but he NEVER wanted to hear the word ‘latch’ again in any context.

He stayed quiet, watching miracles of domesticity and life.

Grace breastfed like a… locust.

Babies are hardcore.

Karin’s eyes closed and she should definitely get a nap. He wanted Grace in his arms. He kissed Karin on the brow and stroked fingers through her hair. Day transferred Grace over to him and he whispered to her, lifting her higher to get a better look because she was so small. “Oh my God, what’s with the cute? How do you make that much cute? It’s not possible. Did you steal my cute? Trick question. You can’t. I’d give it all to you. No, no, no, not that face. I mean, I get it, I’m not blaming you, I want to make that face when I have to let mommy get some sleep too. But that looks like you might make more noise than me. Come on, let’s go take a walk.”

He wanted to take her to the observation deck, but he didn’t make it that far as he was suddenly cut through with a new flavor of terror.

I made her. Yeah, Karin did the work, but I made her. Everyone else was… already here. I could save ‘em or not save ‘em ‘cause it was my job. This little person… 

Can’t let her down. Ever.

His perspective shifted from ‘being a good guy’ being a job where he got paid to ‘being a Good Guy’ is my damned job because Grace is here and there is so much good to be done and I’d better do it.

I am not good enough.

He turned his back to the wall in the hallway and slid to the floor. “Hey, Grace. Thank you for showing up. We need you. I need you. Again with the cute. Oh my God, I can’t stand it.”

She blew bubbles out of her mouth.

He started to cry.

He stayed that way until Garrus came out of the battery and headed for the elevator, turned on his weirdly shaped and angled heel and looked down at them. “Spirits, she’s beautiful. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. She’s too cute. I can’t stand. I can’t walk and look at her at the same time.”

“Want me to get you a chair?”

“Nah, I’m good. We’re good. How’s the… you know… galaxy?” He didn’t really care and he didn’t look up.

“Cerberus is being dickish. They’d be shooting at us if they could find us. They’re settling for shooting at… well… everyone else, it seems.”

Moya explained to Grace “You’ll unfortunately get used to that. Garrus will take care of it.”

Garrus huffed and said sarcastically “Sure. By noon standard Citadel time tomorrow.”

“How’s Palaven?”

“Upset. Lots of shooting and unreported shooting. I told them you were unconscious.”

“Functionally true.”

“The Primarch sends congratulations to the little bit here.”

“She’s gonna take over the galaxy.”

“Yeah, but Palaven’s mine, right?”

“I’m sure she’ll think that’s cool. She seems nice and generous.”

“Takes after her mom.” An alert on Garrus’s Omni-Tool made him say “Aaaah. What’s your policy on swearing in front of infants?”

“I’m probably cool with it. I’ll have to check with Karin for a final judgment.”

“Okay. Gotta go. Insert all the swear words you want here. It’s bad. If you need a pillow or someone to carry you to bed, give me a call and I’ll see if I’m free.”

“You romantic bastard.”

“Always.”

Garrus left and there was no interruption for an unmeasured while except for a few crew who tried to enter the hall, startled and then backed out before he could tell them it was all right.

He wavered between marveling at her cute and recalling David’s treatment at the hands of Cerberus, at what a husk looked like, her face obliterated by emerging wiring in a bizarre half-dream hallucination of fear.

Fuck.

Thane emerged from Life Support and approached, a gloved fingertip tracing Grace’s brow “Blessings of the Sands to you, child of the Nilafor and the Kaseed. May the wind always bring you the promise of water.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“So is she. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I know what a Kaseed is, what’s a Nilafor?”

“You.”

“What specifically about me?”

“It would likely translate best to Divine Fool.”

“Fitting.”

“I should not lie in her birth blessing. The Gods might not honor it if it is the result of impure heart.”

“I’m cool with it. How goes… everything else?”

“The Citadel is in chaos. Udina is trapped in his offices as unindoctrinated members of the Council and C-Sec review his latest communications with Cerberus and Reaper forces. The unindoctrinated members of the Council and C-Sec are also reviewing their own indoctrinated members’ communications with Cerberus and Reaper forces. We hope to determine the source of indoctrination.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Can I assist in any way?”

“Can you… scratch behind my right ear?”

“Certainly. Are you numb in that position?”

“Mostly. Don’t want to move. She’s asleep. She’s so cute.”

“Indeed she is.” 

“I’m cute too.”

“Less apparent.” Thane scratched behind his right ear. 

“You’re mean. And thanks. For everything.”

“Of course.”

“Need any help with that… you know, chaos thing? If so, ask Garrus. I think I’m out.”

“Of course.”

The hallway rocked, weapons fire impact on the shielding.

Moya shrugged “Garrus said Cerberus is being dickish.”

“Indeed. I shall go see what is to be done about that.”

“Thanks again.”

He watched her, mesmerized, gathering new itchy and numb spots, wavering between being the one responsible for all the weapons fire and accepting the Nilafor part of the Drell snark-honest blessing reliant upon the Gods to bring her to water. She woke up, would not be consoled and when he tried to touch his finger to her adorable mouth she gummed him so damned hard he started and she cried harder.

“Holy crap, Grace, is that what you do to mommy? Not okay. NOT okay. Let’s go find her.”

Took him a little while to use the wall to brace himself because he wasn’t going to put her on the floor. He slid up the wall and got some blood back into his legs. “Look, I know I made all those heroic promises, but I think Daddy needs a nap. That’s all I’m good for right now.”

He brought her back to Karin, who seemed fully Kaseed. Grace started to breastfeed and to ‘locust’ add the descriptor of ‘shark.’

Ow.

He bent down at the side of the bed as though taking sudden cover, Karin laughing as he dramatically declared “Holy shit, she’s scary.”

Karin gave him a look that made him sure that swearing was not in fact okay.

Karin looked at him, made the right call, smiled and told Day “We’ll be in our quarters.”

He swallowed hard. “I want to be heroic, but I’m useless. I want to carry you both, but I think I’m out. Garrus volunteered though. I bet he could manage all three of us.”

Weapons fire rocked the ship again.

Karin smiled “That won’t be necessary. I imagine he’s busy.”

“Uh… yeah. Cerberus is being dickish.”

Day rolled her eyes “As usual.”

Karin arranged for a mobility chair, held Grace and his hand on the way to their cabin. They made it all the way in. He finally got a chance to lay down, Grace between them and their hands held.

Being a Gruntled Gratidumb Nilafor was not that bad of a gig.

He hoped they lived long enough for him to do something more heroic than snore, but for right now… there were worse ways to go.

He knew that to be literally true.


	16. Chapter 16

Moya had never been big on decorating, but he found himself inspired. Being a murderous machine wasn’t new to him. Being a father was. Like a bowerbird bringing home colorful bits of glass he started to become preoccupied with newborn nesting.

Reapers had in fact invaded. I know, right? Everyone was shocked. Citadel politics boiled down to ‘Okay, maybe we won’t boot the Alliance. We need their ships,’ and Udina was taken into custody. 

Udina was, as usual, absolutely no help to anyone. He denied that he was indoctrinated, so that answered whether or not he knew how he had gotten that way.

Hackett sent Moya to Mars.

Got Liara back!

EDI got shiny and mobile!

Kaidan got the crap kicked out of him.

Moya started to build a mobile for Grace after that mission. He brought home some reflective-looking material from the ex-Dr. Eva. He hadn’t asked EDI if she wanted it back. It now hung in a spiral metal spin over Grace’s crib.

Karin had been unimpressed with the burgeoning art, but Moya had insisted. “Come on, Karin. I need to contribute in some way to what she sees every day. I can’t be only kill and tell.”

“Kill and tell?”

“After-mission briefings, Karin. She has to hear about it. It’s important. No swearing.”

“But graphic mentions of exploding bodies?”

“Well, yeah. She likes it.”

“I doubt the artistic or safety merits of a hanging shard of metal over her crib.”

“Pfft. Let’s be realistic here, if something is going to kill her it won’t be that.”

“Not reassuring.”

“We can get a scalpel and put it up on the mobile too. Like a little Sword of Damocles.” Moya leaned over Grace’s crib, distracted. “Right, honey? Wait. No swearing. Not Damn-ocles. Cute-ocles. Just think of it, Karin! Metaphorically adorable.”

“It is in fact horrifying, and no.”

“We can encase it in something that would help with teething if she manages to grab it.”

“No.”

“We need to involve Grace in our lives, Karin.”

“I believe I have that covered.”

“Fine, rub in that I have to leave.”

“And occasionally I do as well, particularly with emergencies such as Kaidan Alenko.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“I’m certain it was.”

“Okay. It was. EDI, can you find a nontoxic, squishy and shiny, sparkly thing to encase this… bit of metal in?”

“Of course, Commander.”

“There. Problem solved.”

“That is a matter of opinion, Cherie.”

***

Moya took Grace with him on his rounds, significantly cheering up the populace and maybe that’s why nobody hit him up for ridiculous favors. Garrus had tons of authority now and Moya was sure he could send an elite squad of Turians off to kill anybody he wanted. Thane only had the one son and he was (safely?) on board. Liara could get anything she wanted for herself.

Javik had a rocky start but here Moya was leaning over Grace’s crib again securing another shiny spinning thing to her mobile. “Hey honey. This is a Prothean memory shard. It might be the only one left in the galaxy and I thought it was pretty. Javik wanted you to have it. Okay, that’s a bit of a lie. I wanted Javik to give it to me because he mentioned that you would be delicious in a certain sauce. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re yummy.”

He tickled her toes and she kicked and stuck her tongue out.

“Yes. You’re yummy. Yes, you are. I’m sure of it. But still, when Protheans discuss eating human babies, regardless of the merits of absolute yumminess, there’s a price to pay and tah dah! Here it is. I promised him he could have it back. He just has to figure out how. First I have to figure out how.”

***

The mobile grew from found treasures and offered gifts.

Jack offered to get Grace a tattoo, but he demurred on the grounds that Karin would kill both of them. Not immediately, but painfully. Probably death by tattoo over a series of months. He speculated possibly eyeballs would be involved ultimately. Jack was still trying to think of a suitable substitute but settled on being impressed that he was simultaneously in awe and terrified of his wife for very good reasons.

Garrus provided a Turian luck spire; a hammered metal spiral that looked like barbaric glinting platinum. He said it had been a gift from the Primarch.

Thane had carved a figurine of a mythical Drell dragon he named a Ti irr’aq, the material looking like marbled sandstone in the blasted yellows and oranges of Rakhana, sinuous coils and arching spines, its eyes like faceted obsidian.

It was all impractical and unique as crib decor, but EDI had assured him that she would keep it all in an antigravity field that meant Grace was safe from her tendency to be grabby and from any falling hazard.

It added blue mass effect plasma and sparkles to the whole deal, doubling as a night light. Even Karin approved of that.

EDI managed the field so it was now a globe of floating mementos. Grace was transfixed at the moment and so was Moya as he stared not at the mobile, but at the seashell in his hand.

“Hey, honey. Daddy had a rough day. Remember Mordin? He made you laugh because he sang funny. This is for him. He won’t be around anymore and…”

He released the shell into the field and watched it spin in its new course and gravity, imagining the subprocessing EDI kept in place to make sure Grace got the best view.

Then he lifted tortured eyes to Karin, who was watching him solemnly from the corner couch, her datapad tilted forward.

He was so tired. The bellicose future of the Krogan assured, he wanted to mourn for the short-lived Salarian who had died for them. Most of the Krogan he had just saved would have probably killed and spit-roasted Mordin on sight.

Salarian Jerky came through, though.

He was so very tired.

Karin watched him as he walked to the couch and arranged himself in a near fetal position with his head on her lap, facing into the dark leather and closing his eyes. Right now he didn’t want anything else. Grief stripped out his other thoughts. 

Grace was safe. 

Karin was safe. 

Mordin was not.

Karin stroked her fingers through his hair. She knew about Mordin. He’d let her know on his shuttle ride back to the Normandy.

They’d faced grief so often it was commonplace. She was used to him waking suddenly from nightmares, him calling Ashley’s name or the names of other people. He told her about the people she had not known. She knew many of them. She knew Mordin.

He did not have to explain.

The daily and common experience of her reading on her datapad was weirdly comforting as his wit was wanting, his energy had bled out on radioactive Tuchanka ground.

He said quietly “Read to me.”

He couldn’t see her, but she hesitated “Read what, Cherie?”

“Whatever you’re reading.”

“This is about wounds infected by Rachni venom.”

“Works for me.”

She hesitated again, but she knew him and she didn’t question (most of) his bizarre whims, humorous or otherwise, and that in itself was also comforting. To not have to explain. “Rachni venom includes different peptides and substances affecting sodium, calcium and potassium channels in neurons and also glutamate and acetylcholine receptors. Rachni sting victims develop symptoms such as pain and swelling in the site of puncture, necrosis, pyrexia, pulmonary edema, respiratory distress, hypertension, kidney dysfunction and death. Treatment protocol in the case of critically ill patients includes supportive measures…”

He interrupted to say absently “Mordin would like this.”

Her fingers continued to stroke through his hair. He curled up a little closer, his arms wrapping around one of her thighs, which she eased up to allow him to use it as a pillow.

She kept reading.

Normalcy.

This was normal, him causing irreparable harm…

Though it usually did not involve saving whole species.

Tuchanka and Palaven rejoiced, but in this room the story was different. It involved losing important parts of his heart as people he loved died on missions he chose.

He had been the one to set the Rachni queen back into the galaxy. Twice. His wife was now compelled to stay on top of treatment. 

Right.

Normal.

He did not open his eyes because he had faith Grace was there and would be there, that if she cried he would hold her and her eyes would anchor him in each moment.

He embraced exhaustion and his wife’s thigh not with desperation but with faith that ‘normal’ between them would hopefully save more beings than it cost the galaxy at large.

But Mordin’s death would always be emblazoned with his name.

And he had no idea what a calcium channel had to do with a Rachni sting, that made no sense. Was that bones? Teeth?

Why not just say that?

His bizarre frustration at the things he did not understand faded as he held his tongue and listened to hers, thinking again that Mordin would appreciate this as a memorial.

And that he’d have to wake up at some point and do it again tomorrow.


	17. Chapter 17

It was a great party, but he was having an actual problem that required teamwork. Moya moved back through the apartment, collapsed next to Wrex. “I need Krogan advice.”

“’Course you do. What do you need?”

They were both slurring, a lot, a drunken dialect that either sounded normal to drunken ears or was dismissed as significant and satisfactory, having worked hard to get the accent right.

“Grunt’s…drunk…in the shower. Water’s warm, seemed a shame to…okay, seemed impossible to move him. Is he gonna die in there? Some weird Krogan water reservoir filling up and drowning him and then no more Grunt? I feel responsible.”

“How can you tell he’s drunk?”

“He’s sad Hanar can’t wear sweaters.”

“That sounds suspiciously like compassion. What’s a sweater?”

“It’s a fuzzy…woven…thing. Clothes. Human clothes.” Moya pulled up a picture on his Omni Tool. 

Wrex squinted. “Worse than compassion? Fashion?”

Moya nodded solemnly.

Wrex seemed to forget, leaning back and making a “Hmmm” sound that faded. Moya just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to be responsible for Krogicide. Heh. Krogicide. He wouldn’t really be responsible…he didn’t make Grunt go in there…he just…didn’t make him get out either. So not Krogicide exactly. Negligent manslaughter? He’d be the man…doing the slaughter… man-krogi-slaughter-cide...negligent.

Head hurt.

Wrex said with drunken gravitas “He needs a Tch’kal.”

“Tish call?”

“Tch’kal.”

“Tush Kal? I should get Tali.” Moya tried to stand up and that wasn’t happening until Wrex rose with purpose and then yanked him out of his chair, dragging him back to the shower.

“It’s Krogan, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Obviously. Do I HAVE to understand?”

Wrex made a noise Moya had heard a lot. Frustration. Disgust. They got to the shower but didn’t go in, Wrex stood at the door and said “You seek the way.”

Grunt stopped mumbling and said “What?”

Wrex said more seriously “You seek the way. Hanar can wear sweaters. Just because you haven’t imagined it…does not mean that they can’t.”

“I did imagine it. Is this Wrex?”

“What? No. No. I’m a Tch’kal.”

“You sound like Wrex.”

“Maybe Wrex sounds like me.”

A moment of considering silence and the patter of water “Okay. What’s a Tesh Call?”

Wrex growled “It means you were born in a tank and don’t know your ancestors or their ways and it’s a good thing Okeer is dead or I should kill him for you not knowing what I am.”

“Why…does Wrex…okay, what?”

Moya was as confused as Grunt, but entertained. When he started to laugh Wrex shoved his elbow into his gut and the resulting sound of 'oof' agony and choking made Grunt pay more attention.

“Is that Okeer? Is he with you?”

“Yes. But he is of no concern. Hanar wearing…sweaters is the concern of call.”

“So you’re like…what?”

“Tch’kal.”

“That doesn’t help me!”

“Maybe I’m not here to help you.” Wrex was getting angry and more slurry and Moya nudged him back with an elbow. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Help you. Hanar. Sweaters. They can do it.”

“They can’t knit!”

“But they can BUY. Go find a human that can knit and they can tell you how! Then you just…shove a Hanar into it. Tch’kal solve problems. This is a problem!”

“What color?”

Moya laughed in a sputter and Wrex glared at him.

“Is that Okeer? Does he know what color? Why didn’t he tell me…”

“Green. The sweater’s green. That’s not Okeer, he’s an asshole, that’s me.”

“The…not-Wrex…problem solving toosh kahl.”

“You said it! You got it. Good.”

“Okay…wait, even for their little…thingies?”

Moya’s brows drew together, Wrex shrugged. Dangerous drunken territory here. “Yes. Yes of course their…thingies.” Another shrug. We don’t want to get into it.

“Their thingies always look cold. And they’re kinda shiny, don’t they get dusty? Do they have to dust themselves? Speaking of cold…the water’s getting cold. Can you help me out of here?”

Wrex shook his head, put a solemn hand on Moya’s shoulder when he started to move that way. “No. The Tch’kal speaks, then they are gone.”

Wrex steered Moya back to a couch, where he sat and cracked up until he wound down and said “What the hell is a Tch’kal?”

“Alcohol spirit. Solves problems.”

“You mean makes them. So you’re telling me that a bunch of drunken krantt members find it to be their solemn duty to fuck with someone when they’re drunk?”

“It’s a sacred tradition. Rite of passage. It happens to you. Then you figure out it happens to you. Then you get to do it to other Krogan.”

“Shouldn’t there be a stage where you stop being an asshole?”

“I’m not that old yet. I will never be that old. Don’t mock Krogan culture, boy. Humans made the problem to begin with, them and their sweaters. I just fixed it.”

“What did your Tch’kal convince you was true?”

“I had several. I…forget.”

“Liar.”

“Fuck off, Shepard.”

“Is he gonna die in there in cold water?”

“Of course he is, unless he gets his ass out, that’s a lot of heat loss, that’s just science. We’re redundant, we’re not all that smart. Didn’t YOU die in the cold? Why did you have to ask me?”

“Oh shit. Fine, I’m getting Garrus.”

“Or I am your Tch’kal.”

“It’s not funny, Wrex.”

“Oh yeah it is.”

“Asshole.”

“Tch’kal is a privilege, not a right! You should be honored!”

“You want another drink?”

“Please.”

“Get it yourself, I’m going to be compassionate.”

“That is not the lesson of the Tch’kal, but I do want to watch you try to wrestle a drunken Krogan out of a shower.”


	18. Chapter 18

He stared, unblinking and even unthinking for a long time. In the periphery of his vision were the spinning explosions of the fight outside the Crucible. It seemed relatively sane out there compared to the quiet madness here. He blinked deliberately once more, wondering if this nightmare bullshit would cease to be if he refused to acknowledge it.

When has that ever worked, Moya?

One more blink. 

Nope, still there.

His jaw set, shifted as he stared down the nightmare bullshit that was frozen in time, looking like his mother.

He’d stared people down before. Here it didn’t work.

Why the fuck did it have to look like his mom? How much he loved her and missed her crept into how he felt about the time-shattered ice ghost like a bloom of blood, freezing into a red-rimed mosaic.

He went over the given options again in his head and didn’t see that he could do any of them. Not just difficult, but impossible.

He looked at the ghost of his mother and wondered… if this thing…

If Karin were here she could help him think through this…

She’s not here.

A small half-hitched smile warmed the ice in his gut.

She’s here. She’s with you. Always has been. Always will be. She’s all the things you want, all the things you need, and you know it. Even if she hadn’t been born, there would have been a Karin-shaped hole in your life that made it clear to you what and who you were missing. She was there in the form of how much you needed her even though you didn’t know who she was. 

He looked at the thing that looked like his mother… and wondered again…

You’ve got bullshit and charm going for you, Moya, and your family who loves you for no good reason, but they do. 

But they do.

He couldn’t talk to it like it was his mother because his mother’s grip on reality had never been all that steady, but he could talk to it as though it were something he loved, something he could love… because right now, that’s all he had.

“Look, I know people are dying and all, any way you can slow that down so I can concentrate? I’m a little dazed here. Big choice.”

It shook its head.

Fuck.

“Okay, then I’ll do my best. Mind if I ask a few questions?”

“You may ask.”

“Did you… were you ever… personal question here, part of a family?”

“The galaxy and all the cycles are my family.”

He laughed and held up a hand “Wait, no, hold on here, that’s bullshit, I can tell. With that sorta thing, you’re a little confused. Knowing about something doesn’t make you a part of it. For instance, you thinking everyone’s your family… am I your family?”

His mother’s head eerily tilted in question.

“I’m not trying to insult you. But you’re kind of a dick, let’s be realistic here. I’m kind of a dick, I get that. But if I’m going to change… everything. I mean, we. If we… are going to change everything, let’s define some terms, okay? Were you ever… alive? Did you have parents? Did you have kids? Did you have anything… anyone… that was the reason you got up in the morning? Metaphorically, I mean, I have no idea if you’ve ever slept.”

It almost looked like his mother and his heart warmed in a spurt. It reminded him of all the times his borderline schizophrenic mother had searched for the right answer and didn’t have the basic components to put it together and she came out with faith-based cucumber remedies.

This thing was sooo much like his mother suddenly. This was all a dumbass schizophrenic cucumber-based remedy.

He actually felt sorry for it.

Moya suddenly didn’t want it to arrive at justification so he continued quickly “Hey, you know what? Never mind. I’m sure you’ve been thinking about that for a really long time. Here’s what I’ve been thinking about. I get that you’ve seen annihilation, cruelty, domination… I’m with you on the Leviathan being pretty big assholes, by the way. I wouldn’t have existed at all or I would have ended up as a slave without your intervention, right? So you… burn down the forest sort of thing, allow for new growth?”

It gave a solemn, ghostly, schizophrenic nod.

This poor fucking thing.

“Okay. So your methods are… well, I won’t get into it. But you claim… you have preserved all the cycles? You take blood, right? There’s DNA, yeah, but there’s memory? You break it down and store it? So you’re about preservation and you’ve got libraries of people?”

It continued to stare.

“For instance, you’re wearing my mom. Let me take a crack at why. Because you know… I care about her. So… caring has value. And blood has value. We agree there?”

He might be losing it, that tilt of the head not clear as to whether or not it agreed or was about to electrocute him to shut him up.

“So… you’re wearing my mom… you got that from my head. You’re in my head, I guess. Sorry about that. Messy place. Don’t judge humanity by what I’ve got going on as far as thoughts go. But… you look like my mother, you know that caring matters, you know that memory matters. You’re kinda about giving the underdog a shot. I can hang with that. You’re a high-tech librarian with a bunch of blood books about people, right? What I want to ask is… have you… read… or experienced… those books?”

“I have seen empires rise and fall countless times.”

“Yeah, I get that, and if anything, that’s gonna make you wanna annihilate people. That’s about war and politics. I get that I’m… about war. You see the ugly, the cruel, the huge. But I’m asking… have you taken any time to delve into what it is to be the hopeful, the kind and the small? You’ve got blood books, but it’s dried, that makes it ink. Blood needs to flow to be understood. You’ve held back the empires. I should probably thank you for that, we’re on the same side there. History is pretty vile. But the people who start the wars are different from the people who fight the wars. You started this war. I’m fighting it. For me, it’s not about empires or the whole galaxy. It’s about the woman you look like. It’s about the woman I married. It’s about my son. It’s about my daughter. You’ve been a guardian and I’ve gotta say, you’ve done a pretty kickass job of setting up the inevitable. I’m all small here. What I know that you don’t is that my blood’s pumping, it’s moving, it’s not history, and it wants to have a future. It doesn’t want to be ink. That choice isn’t made for my own benefit. I don’t matter much. But my wife… you should meet her. She embodies a lot of good that I don’t. I hurt people. She fixes them. We have an amazing son who should be able to see more of the galaxy because he cherishes every molecule of this place. I have a baby girl. She’s beautiful and whether or not she’s going to cherish every molecule of this place, she’s definitely gonna wanna put it all in her mouth.”

Moya brought up pictures of his family on his Omni Tool, cycled through them. “They are the difference between dry history and the living, possible future. They’re what the past can’t have anymore… and what you maybe never had. Hope. You see that people fight. I can show you WHY they fight. If it’s in the blood, if you can get it from my mind, if you can see it, if you can feel it…”

Moya extended his Omni Tool blade and cut a channel down his palm, blood dripping down, the moment of inspiration forcing him to keep it open, to not turn it into a fist as the moment of bullshit babble calmed into conviction and action and he thought - ‘This is a really bad idea…’

But it’s the only idea.

He held out his hand to his mother, to the thing that was ignorant.

“If it’s in the blood, take it. We can do this together. I’ve got an idea. I’m not saying it’s a great idea, but it’s an idea, and it’s much more interesting than annihilation and war, it’s much more interesting than judgment and power. Aren’t you sick of being here, thinking these thoughts? I could be your family, just like you’ve tried to be mine. We… could be your family.”

Electrocution surged around the ghostly image as Moya held his hand out, blood splashing onto the deck, as he saw fascination seep into the eyes of his mother, the eyes of his potential future and annihilation.

She/it reached out a tentative and slow hand, the same expression of ‘this is bullshit crazy’ that swam in Moya’s eyes and thoughts, yet still it reached toward him as Moya smiled, committed to family and blood and crazy stupid, thinking a prayer to everyone living he hoped he could keep that way ‘I hope this works and if this does, I’m really sorry but I’m also not…' Moya reached forward to the cold, to the crazy, to the potential future, gripping the cold in his warm and bleeding hand, pulling the mother he hadn’t been able to say goodbye to because he’d been dead into an embrace. Now probably he would be dead again, but he’d go out babbling about what was important.

The ice and cold that touched his hand was held in his arms. The sensation shifted over suspended moments from cold and slick to warm and then rapidly heated to searing, the dripping warmth and sting of blood turning to a brilliant red that lit them in an eerie glow, pulsed and then grew to encompass them both.


	19. Chapter 19

Moya woke up, not panicked and then panicking about not being panicked because ‘panic’ had been the flavor of everything for a while, as ‘festive’ as his mother’s casserole toppings. 

His mother. 

Oh, God. 

What had happened? 

He looked around his familiar-but-should-not-be-right-now-how-did-I-get-here surroundings. He was under blankets, next to his sleeping wife, in the Normandy’s cabin. His eyes swerved to Grace’s crib, the Mass Effect mobile sparkling above. Panic was joined by a swirl of cagey fear. This looks good. Maybe don't ask too many questions. Maybe don't ask any. 

He sat up and lifted a hand to shove it through his hair in a general expression of ‘what the fuck?’ and then stared at his hand. 

There were sparks of light along his skin in silver and green glints. 

Karin’s colors. 

Karin. 

KARIN. 

Existential questions aside, his last conscious moments had been spent focusing on how she was a miracle and that seemed a much better use of his time than his usual what-the-fucking. 

He added more silver to his hand by stroking her hair back. She was so beautiful and somehow polished in her sleep. He enjoyed mussing the hell out of her sleek hair but right now she looked unmussed and he needed to fix that. Whatever was going on, she was the important part of it, he was sure. 

I'm either dead or… something else, but I’m going to check out the ‘Heaven’ potential right now. 

He leaned down to kiss his sleeping beauty and her sudden gasp of breath and lurch up smashed their foreheads together.

“Easy, Karin.”

She looked as wild as he’d ever seen her, reflected panic in her eyes. She stared at him and said “Easy? Where…?”

“The Normandy cabin.”

“I was in the Med Bay. Garrus and Thane were…”

“Injured. Yeah.”

Her eyes narrowed “Why are you glowing green?”

“And silver.”

“Yes, and silver, yet I do not find that aspect significant. It is the glowing -”

“It’s VERY significant, Karin. They’re your colors.”

“What does that mean and why… are we here?”

He kissed her and she protested, struggling slightly, likely trying to get to her Med Bay and her charges.

“Karin. Listen. I don’t know everything but listen to what I do know. I made it to the Crucible.”

“Then how -?”

He kissed her again because he could, and he saw her eyes stray to the crib where Grace was sleeping. “Karin. Listen to the glowy guy. Give me… five minutes. Okay?” She settled tentatively as he said “Look. This is crazy. I mean more crazy than usual, even for me. There was a… thing… at the Crucible. It looked like my mother. It told me I could Control the Reapers, I could Destroy the Reapers or I could mush everything together, organic and synthetic and make a new batch of beings.”

“Cherie, that is insane.”

“I TOLD you that. How many insane things have we encountered?”

“Fair point.”

“I didn’t like those choices. I thought of an alternative. Look, I’d ask you to stop looking at me like I’m crazy, but that seems unreasonable at the moment. Karin, I thought the damned thing was crazy and alone and needed a real life. In my defense, I was kinda desperate and it looked like mom.”

There was a sudden cry from near the desk, behind the glass displays and the model ship collection.

A baby’s cry.

Not Grace.

Karin was pretty damned fast, she rushed over to Grace’s crib to check, Moya right behind her. RIGHT behind her much faster than anticipated. He nearly body checked her into the crib but did manage to stop in time. 

So… that happened. She hadn’t seen. 

So… this might be cool as hell.

He swerved and was suddenly into the alcove where there was…

Yeah. He had some explaining to do.

Another crib.

With another baby in it.

Well.

Karin arrived a few steps behind him, having apparently seen a green and silver streak that was her husband get there much faster than humanly possible.

He was grinning as she raised her eyes to his.

Well, this was terrible.

And awesome.

Her brow raised.

He was pretty sure she’d give him time to explain now. He said “Not sure I can really explain.”

She blinked.

“But for the beautiful lady, I’ll try. I think the thing at the Crucible could read my thoughts. No other explanation for the crazy. It took the form of my mom and that reminded me of family and how my mother was so very screwed up but I still loved her. How I’m so very screwed up but you love me.”

Despite herself she half smiled, but then looked pointedly back at the… baby... who looked absolutely normal, not glowing at all. Not ghostly or anything else one might expect from a…

Well, a God.

He explained quietly, picking up the baby and thinking it was human and male and probably about to cry some more… “And I thought… at it… that maybe it was tired of being a God and might want to be a part of a family. And I particularly thought that it would enjoy being part of your family.”

Her jaw jutted as she said “Cherie, and I call you that out of respect and yet a bit of terror… then why are YOU glowing and IT looks… helpless? What if that… God… decided to take the place of my husband?”

He stuttered “Dear GOD, Karin, you’re sneaky. Holy crap.”

She pressed her lips together despite herself, reassured even though there were obvious reasons why she shouldn’t be. “Well, that probably proves I’m not a God. I’m still not that smart. But… Karin… I love you. I don’t think I could be that… thing. Yeah, I’ve probably gotten some upgrades. Probably the… um… God… there… figured I’d need to protect him. He knows I will. It was in my head, Karin. I meant it. Can’t kill a baby. Given a chance to save the galaxy, this is how I proposed saving it.”

“Not being willing to slaughter the innocent is a distinction that separates you from that… thing…”

“It had the power to change the entire galaxy, Karin. I think, from what it showed me before everything went suddenly whoosh… the galaxy is the same as it was, mostly. Now there just aren’t any Reapers remaining and nobody will remember them. I imagine he didn’t want the story told and to be, well, helpless and blamed. The Reapers are destroyed except for one - this one - and the main synthesis is in this little guy right here wanting to start over, and the control is probably… well, I’m glowing and I’m a lot faster. Maybe there’s other stuff I can do.”

“If I was supposed to be such a phenomenal mother, why am I not glowing?”

“You don’t need it, Karin. I do. I think I got that across; you being perfect and all and me not.”

“Charming as ever, Cherie. And yet…”

“And yet, yeah. Um…”

“So now we are the parents of a… child… that destroyed the galaxy cycle after cycle, mercilessly and without any plan other than maintaining its own integrity?”

“...yes? To be fair, Karin, the other options sucked big time. They involved me dying. I didn’t like that idea.”

“Agreed there. And yet what happens when the same God that judged the galaxy as unworthy grows up and decides we are not as amusing as he had hoped?”

“Well… we’d better not do that then.”

“That is less of a plan and more of a hope.”

“Hope is all I’ve ever had, Karin.”

She closed her eyes and nodded sagely a few times, trying to absorb the completely insane. “Very well then. Cherie. I am proud of you, gratified and of course terrified.”

“Of course.”

“What shall we name… him?”

“I think him. I’m not checking right now. Assume first diaper change will confirm. Maybe he’ll have a nametag… somewhere.”

She smiled and said “Poetically perhaps, if there is no… nametag… we could name him ‘Man’ in the language of one of the oldest civilizations in human history.”

“The guys that started getting organized enough to get us into Reaping trouble in the first place?”

“Yes. ‘Lu’ means ‘man’ in Sumerian. If we name him ‘Lu is’ - we could honor ancestral ambitions as well as the hope of a God who wishes to learn what it is to be mortal.”

“Luis. See, he picked a good mom.”

“Why am I not…?”

“What?”

“Younger?”

“What?”

“If it knew you and arranged… life… into its ideal and you into its ideal, why am I not ideal?”

He snorted “Are you kidding? You already are. Look, you get to be smarter, have better plans, be more loving, gorgeous and my reason for living. You want MORE? You’re already prettier than me.”

“I begin to believe it is truly you.”

“I’m insulted, Karin. You can’t have everything your way.”

“I apologize.”

“Yeah, yeah. Luis, mommy’s occasionally dense.”

She moved to Grace’s crib and picked her up “I fear you overcompensate, Cherie.”

He shook his head “Okay, sometimes she’s dumb. Give her a break, it’s the end of the Worlds as we know it and the beginning of new ones.”

Then Luis started to cry. He grinned “Right. This we understand.”

They got on with parenting.

+++

The Reapers really were gone.

There weren’t that many changes to the galaxy except a few idealized touches to what Moya had wanted, a few notes of transformation that made him feel his… um… son… that’s still and would always be terrifying… had arranged it to make it all doable but not all that easy.

Garrus and Thane had both been deeply injured. Now they weren’t.

Garrus did in fact get Palaven in his own way. They made him Primarch.

Moya really wished he’d made some other flippant promises, like Rakhana being habitable or Krogan not being hyper-aggressive and now poised to take over the galaxy.

But on the bright side, he was kind of a God.

That was pretty cool.

Luis behaved like a normal baby and everyone other than Karin seemed to think he was their natural-born son. 

So the little guy got a few wishes of his own, it seemed. Only he and Karin seemed to know what Reapers were at all. Otherwise they’d just been on regular ‘clear out the assholes’ missions that had happened before Reapers existed. 

With a few weird perks like nobody knew of anybody named Udina, ever. The name didn’t even seem to exist.

The galaxy had been transformed in subtle and stunning ways and only Karin and Moya knew the difference.

Nobody else could see that Moya glowed but Karin.

So he was Commander Shepard and the Alliance had a lot brewing to check into, slavery and Rachni stirrings and Krogan hyper-aggressive bullshit.

And yet Wrex seemed to have it under control.

And the Rachni queen managed to quell rebellion as long as the Normandy ferried her from place to place. The Rachni queen and Karin became friends, and yeah, that’s weird, but not as weird as other stuff that had happened.

Day, Javik and Thane stayed for the mayhem and there was lots and lots of that.

Liara was all Shadow Brokery, happily providing Moya with missions and info that gave him unfair advantages and he would take every last one of them.

Garrus bitched about not being able to carry a gun anymore and worried about the proficiency of his bodyguards and Moya could tell the man was having the time of his life.

David… stayed… David. Moya realized he had not wished anything in particular for David other than happiness, and between Day, Kolyat, Thane, Karin and yeah, the Rachni queen and Legion… he was happy.

Jeff didn’t have and apparently never had Vrolik’s Syndrome. He and EDI were a thing. It was adorable.

Moya kept bringing Grace on his check-in rounds. Luis was most often with mommy in the Med Bay. Right now he held Grace as they both looked out the observation deck window, watching the streaming Mass Effect energy and stars rush by. 

Moya was feeling pretty smug. He wasn’t the sort of God that could make something happen directly by will, but it did seem as though the green and silver granted him hope and some magnetism that tilted his luck toward what he wanted. Every time. He still had to work at it, of course, but that’s also what he wanted. 

Hope WAS his plan.

Karin was busy with research and not treatment.

Smiling at Grace he said “Daddy was right, honey. Nilafor isn’t a bad gig. I’m perfectly happy to be a Divine Fool forever, if that’s the plan. Maybe feel sorry for mommy having to deal with all that, but since I hope she’s happy too… I’m betting that’s going to come true. Now, you don’t remember and you won’t remember, but I’m going to need you to be nice to your little brother. It’s important. I’m betting… you’re going to grow up just as perfect and happy as I ever wanted. And then I’m betting you’re going to stop aging at some point. And I’m betting that at some point I’m going to figure out how to fix all the broken stuff lying around this silly galaxy. Yeah, it’s silly. That’s definitely the word. No, that’s not disrespectful, it’s just true.”

He kissed the top of her head as one of her hands gripped at his thumb and one hand reached out toward the stars with a delighted laugh.

“Yeah, honey. I can’t wait either.”


End file.
